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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  /A  -  /SGo 


On  Both  Sides  of  the  Sea: 


A  Story  of 


Sjje  Conunonfoealtjj  anb  %  Restoration. 


A    SEQUEL    TO 

"THE  DRATTON3  AND  THE  DAVENAFr3-w 


h  Y    "HE   AUTHOR    OF 
u  Chronicles  of  the   Schonberg-Cotta  Family." 


NEW    YORK: 

DODD,  MEAD    &   COMPANY, 
Publishers. 


U-^S3 


CARL  FROM  THE  AUTHOR. 

"The     Author    of     the     '  Schonoerg-Coua     Family 
wishes  it    to  oe  generally  known   among   tne   readers  01 
her  books  in  America,  that  the  American   Editions  issued 
by  Mr.    M    W.  Dodd,   of  New  York    a.one    have   the 
Author's  sinction." 


565385 


On  Both  Sides  of  the  Sea. 


On  both  Sides  of  the  Sea. 


Chapter     I. 


olive's  recollections. 


INCE  England  was,  such  an  event  was 
never  witnessed  within  sound  of  her 
seas,  as  that  which  darkened  London  on 
the  fatal  30th  of  January,  1649. 
In  tbe  recollection  of  such  moments  it  is  difficult 
to  disentangle  feeling  from  fact,  what  Ave  saw  with 
our  eyes  and  heard  with  our  ears  from  what  others 
told  us,  from  what  we  saw  with  the  imagination 
and  heard  with  the  heart. 

In  my  memory  that  day  lies  shrouded  and  silent, 
as  if  all  that  happened  in  it  had  been  done  in  a  city 
spell-bound  into  silence  in  a  hushed,  sunless,  color- 
less world,  where  all  intermediate  tints  were  gath- 
ered into  funereal  black  and  white,  the  black  of  the 
heavily-draped  scaifold  and  the  whiteness  of  the 
frosty  ground  from  which  it  rose  into  the  still  and 
icy  air  ;  whilst  behind  the  palace  slept,  frost-bound, 
the  mute  and  motionless  river,  imprisoning  with 

icy  bars  *.he  motionless  ships. 

(9) 


to  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

From  early  in  the  day  the  thoroughfares  and 
squares  and  open  gathering-places  of  the  city  ivere 
filled  with  the  Commonwealth  soldiers-  I  remem- 
ber no  call  of  trumpet  or  beat  of  drum;  only  a 
slow  pacing  of  horsemen,  and  marching  of  foot* 
men,  silently, to  their  assigned  positions,  the  tramp 
of  men  and  the  clatter  of  the  horse-hoofs  ringing 
from  the  hard  and  frosty  ground,  and  echoing  from 
the  closed  and  silent  houses  on  the  line  of  march. 

It  was  no  day  of  triumph  to  any.  To  the  army, 
and  those  who  felt  with  them,  it  was  a  day  of  sol- 
emn justice,  not  of  triumphant  vengeance.  To  the 
Royalists  it  was  a  day  of  passionate  hushed  sorrow 
and  bitter  inward  vows  of  retribution ;  to  the  peo- 
ple generally  a  day  of  perplexity  and  woe. 

Old  Mr.  Prynne,  who  owed  the  king  nothing,  as 
he  said,  but  the  loss  oi  his  ears,  the  pillory,  im- 
prisonment, and  fines,  haC  pleaded  for  him  gene- 
rously in  the  House,  before  the  House  had  been 
finally  "  purged." 

And  the  most  part  of  the  men,  and  well-nigh  all 
the  women,  I  think,  would  have  said  "  Amen  "  to 
Mr.  Prynne.  If  the  king's  captivity  and  trial  and 
condemnation  had  been  a  solemn  drama  enacted  to 
win  the  hearts  of  the  people  back  to  him,  it  could 
not  have  been  more  effectual.  Political  and  civil 
rights,  rights  of  taxation  and  rights  of  remonstrance, 
seemed  to  the  hearts  of  most  people  to  become  mere 
technical  legal  terms  in  the  presence  of  Royalty  and 
Death.  Pillories  and  prisons  were  dwarfed  into 
mere  private  grievances  beside  the  scaffold  on  which 
tbe  king,  son  of  so  many  kings,  kings  of  so  many 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  t  \ 

submissive  generations,  the  source  of  power,  the 
only  possible  object  of  the  dreadful  crime  called 
treason,  was  to  die  the  death  of  a  traitor. 

The  trial  brought  out  all  that  was  most  pathetic 
in  royalty  and  most  noble  in  the  king.  The  haughty 
glance  which  had  been  resented  on  the  throne,  was 
simply  majestic  when  it  encountered  unflinchingly 
the  illegal  bench  of  judges  on  whom  his  life  de- 
pended. 

The  Parliament,  mutilated  to  a  remnant,  of  fifty; 
the  High  Court  of  Justice,  who  could  not  agree 
among  themselves,  whose  assumption  of  legal  forms 
sounded  (to  many)  like  mockery,  whose  trappings 
of  authority  sat  on  them  (many  thought)  like  mas- 
querade-robes, were  a  poor  show  to  confront  with 
that  lonely  majestic  figui'e  defying  their  sentence 
and  their  authority,  a  captive  in  the  ancient  Hall 
of  Justice  from  which,  throughout  the  centuries, 
not  a  sentence  had  issued  save  by  the  sanction  of 
his  forefathers. 

The  royal  banners,  which  drooped  from  the  roof 
above  him,  taken  from  his  Cavaliers  at  Edgehill, 
Marston  Moor,  and  Naseby,  seemed  to  float  there 
rather  in  his  honor  than  in  that  of  his  judges. 
Many  felt  that  adversity  had  restored  to  him  his 
true  royalty,  and  that  he  sat  far  more  a  king  now, 
arraigned  at  the  bar,  than  when,  eight  years  before, 
at  the  last  trial  those  walls  had  witnessed,  he  sat  as 
a  helpless  spectator  of  the  proceedings  which  brought 
Stratford,  his  greatest  minister,  to  the  scaffold 

It  was  well  for  his  adversaries  that  those  days  of 
the  king's  humiliation  were  not  prolonged.     Irro 


,i  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

pressible  veneration  and  pity  began  to  stir  among 
the  crowds  who  beheld  him,  and  the  cries  of  "Jus- 
tice !  justice  !"  were  changed  more  thnn  once  into 
murmurs  of  "  God  save  the  king." 

But  the  pity  was  a  slowly-rising  tide  of  waves 
now  advancing  and  now  recoiling.  The  determina- 
tion  for  "justice  on  the  chief  delinquent"  was  a 
strong  and  steady,  though  narrow  current ;  and  it 
Bwcpt  the  l  ation  on  irresistibly  to  its  end. 

The  soldiers,  foot  and  horse,  had  taken  up  their 
position.  My  brother  Roger  and  Job  Forster  were 
posted  opposite  Whitehall.  Roger  waved  his  hand 
as  he  passed  our  windows.  His  face,  as  was  his 
wont  in  times  of  strong  emotion,  was  fixed  and 
stern.  He  was  riding  in  a  funeral  procession,  which 
for  him  led  to  more  graves  than  one. 

At  ten  o'clock  His  Majesty  walked  through  St. 
James's  Park  to  Whitehall,  passing  rapidly  through 
the  bitter  cold,  under  the  bare  branches  of  the  silent 
trees,  through  a  crowd  in  appearance  as  cold  as 
silent.  His  face,  meu  said,  was  calm  and  majestic 
as  ever,  although  worn  ;  his  beard  had  become 
gray,  and  his  form  had  a  slight  stoop,  although 
he  was  not  fifty  years  of  age,  but  his  step  was 
firm.  He  disappeared  through  the  Palace  gates, 
from  which  he  was  never  to  step  forth  again.  Then 
followed  six  hours  of  suspense  and  terrible  expecta- 
tion, the  crowds  surging  uneasily  to  and  fro,  unable 
to  rest,  repelled  and  yet  attracted  by  the  terrible 
fascination  of  the  empty,  expeetan*  scaffold,  whose 
heavy  funereal  draperies  fell  from  the  windows  of 
the  Banqueting  Hall  on  the  frosty  ground  beneath. 
There   were    whimpers   that   the   uinliu&audor  of   the 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  13 

United  Provinces  was  pleading  not  hopelessly  with 
Lord  Fairfax ;  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  had  sent  a 
blank  letter  signed  by  himself,  to  be  filled  with  any 
conditions  the  Commons  chose  to  demand  ;  but  that 
the  king  bad  burned  this  letter,  and  refused  the 
ministrations  of  any  but  the  clergy  of  tbe  Episco- 
pal Church  of  the  realm  ; — so  that  if  he  was  indeed 
to  die,  it  would  be  as  a  martyr  to  the  rights  of  the 
Crown  and  the  Church. 

And  through  these  soberer  reports  ever  and  anon 
rose  wild  rumors  of  approaching  deliverance,  of 
risings  in  the  Royalist  counties,  of  avenging  fleets 
approaching  the  Thames,  of  judgment  direct  from 
heaven  on  the  sacrilegious  heads  of  the  regicides. 

But  to  us  who  knew  of  the  purpose  which  had 
been  gathering  force  in  the  army  since  that  prayer- 
meeting  at  Windsor  six  months  before,  those  mid- 
day hours  were  hours  not  of  doubt  or  suspense, 
but  of  awful  certainty,  as  minute  by  minute  the 
hour  approached  when  that  scaffold  was  to  be  empty 
no  more. 

We  knew  that  within  the  still  and  deserted  halls 
of  that  palace,  the  king  was  preparing  to  meet  his 
doom ;  and  (all  political  questions  and  personal 
wrongs  for  the  time  forgotten)  from  a  thousand 
roofs  in  the  city  went  up  prayers  that  he  might  be 
sustained  ir  dying,  and  might  exchange  the  earthly 
orown  which  had  sat  on  his  brow  so  uneasily,  for 
the  crown  of  life  which  burdens  not,  nor  fades  away. 

At  length  three  o'clock,  the  moment  of  doom, 
came.  "It  was  the  ninth  hour,"  as  the  Royalista 
loudly  no^ed.  Save  the  guard  around  the  scaffold, 
2 


»4 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  TEE  SEA. 


and  (hose  who  attended  his  dying  moments  on  it, 
none  were  near  enough  to  hear  what  passed  there. 
It  was  all  mute ;  but  the  spectacle  spoke.  In  most 
royal  pageants,  the  thing  seen  is  but  a  sign  of  the 
thing  not  seen.  In  this  the  thing  to  be  seen  was 
no  mere  sign,  but  a  dread  reality,  a  tremendous 
event.  The  black  scaffold,  the  wintry  silence,  the 
vast  awe-stricken  crowd  gazing  mute  and  motion- 
less  on  the  inevitable  tragedy  ;  a  few  plainly  dressed 
men  at  last  appearing  on  the  scaffold  around  the 
well-known  stately  figure  of  the  king,  richly  arrayed 
"  as  for  his  second  bridal ;"  "  the  comely  head  " 
laid  down  without  a  struggle  on  the  block  "  as  on 
a  bed ;"  the  momentary  flash  of  the  axe ;  the  sev- 
ered head  raised  an  instant  on  high  as  "  the  head 
of  a  traitor ;"  a  shrouded  form  prostrate  on  the 
scaffold  ; — and  then,  as  good  Mr.  Philip  Henry, 
who  was  present,  said,  "  at  the  instant  when  the 
blow  was  given,  a  dismal  universal  groan  among  the 
thousauds  of  people  who  were  within  sight  of  it, 
as  if  with  one  consent,  such  as  he  had  never  heard 
before,  and  desired  he  might  never  hear  the  like 
again,  or  see  such  a  cause  for  it." 

The  multitude  were  not  left  long  to  bewail  their 
king.  One  troop  of  Parliament  horse  rode  instantly, 
by  previous  order,  from  Charing  Cross  towards 
King  Street,  and  another  from  King  Street  towards 
Charing  Cross  ;  and  so  the  crowd  were  scattered 
right  and  left,  to  lament  as  they  might  each  man 
under  his  own  roof,  and  to  read  in  secret  the 
"  Eikon  Basilike  '  which  it  is  said  the  king  com- 
posed,  copies  of  which  were  distributed  under  his 


ON  BOTlx   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


«5 


scaffold,  and  will,  doubtless,  be  reverently  treasured 
in  every  Royalist  household ;  not  in  the  library,  but 
in  the  oratory,  beside  the  Bible  and  the  Prayer- 
book,  enkindling  loyalty  from  a  eonviction  into  a 
passion,  deepening  it  from  a  passion  to  a  religion, 
while  they  compare  the  king's  trial  to  that  before 
the  unjust  judge  of  old,  his  walk  to  the  scaffold  to 
that  along  the  Dolorous  Way,  his  sayings  to  those 
last  words  on  which  dying  men  and  women  have 
hung  ever  since. 

Every  one  knows  the  heaviness  with  which  even 
a  day  of  festivity  closes,  when  the  event  of  the  day 
is  over.  The  weight  with  which  that  fatal  day 
closed  it  is  hard  for  any  who  did  not  feel  it  to 


imagine. 


Scripture  words  repeated  with  ominous  warning 
by  ministers,  Presbyterian  and  Episcopal,  echoed 
like  curses  through  countless  hearts  :  "  I  gave  them 
a  king  in  my  anger  and  took  him  away  in  my 
wrath."  "  Who  am  I  that  I  should  lay  hands  on 
the  Lord's  anointed  ?" 

Death  gave  to  the  king's  memory  an  immaculate- 
ness  very  different  from  the  technical,  "  the  king 
can  do  no  wrong  of  the  ancient  constitution." 

And  even  with  those  whose  resolution  remained 
unwavering  to  the  last,  this  was  not  the  time  for 
speech.  The  extremity  of  justice  had  been  done, 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  It  would  have 
been  an  ungenerous  revenge  far  from  the  thoughts 
of  such  regicides  as  Colonel  Hutchinson  and  Gen- 
eral Cromwell  to  follow  it  with  insulting  words,  and 
their  own  self-defence  they  were  content  to  leavo  to 


1 6  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

events.  Mr.  Milton's  majestic  Defences  of  the  Eng« 
lish  People  came  later. 

Ours  was  a  silent  fireside  that  winter  night,  as 
Roger,  weary  and  numb,  came  at  last  to  warm  hiai« 
self  beside  us. 

As  he  entered,  I  was  saying  to  my  husband,  "  The 
terrible  thing  is,  that  he  who  lived  trampling  on  the 
constitution  and  the  rights  of  conscience,  seems  to 
have  died  a  martyr  to  the  constitution  and  con- 
science, doomed  by  a  few  desperate  men." 

"  We  must  concern  ourselves  as  little  as  possible, 
sister,"  Roger  said  very  quietly,  "  with  what  seems." 

"  I  fear  this  day  will  turn  the  tide  against  all  for 
which  you  have  fought  throughout  the  war." 

"  The  tide  wull  turn  back,"  he  said. 

"  But  what  if  not  in  our  time  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Then  in  God's  time,  Olive,"  he  said ;  "  which 
is  the  best." 

But  he  looked  very  worn  and  sad.  I  repented 
of  having  said  these  discouraging  words,  and  weak- 
ly strove  to  undo  them  as  he  asked  me  to  unlace 
the  helmet  which  his  benumbed  hands  could  not 
unloose. 

"I  would  rather  a  thousand  times,"  I  said,  "have 
you  with  Colonel  Hutchinson,  and  General  Crom- 
well, and  tliAse  who  dared  to  do  what  they  thought 
right  in  the  lace  of  the  world,  than  with  those  who 
thought  it  right  yet  dared  not  doit,  The  nation  will 
recognize  their  deliverer  in  General  Cromwed  yet." 

"  I  do  not  know  that,  Olive,"  ho  said  ;  "  but  it 
will  be  enough  if  General  Cromwell  delivers  th«« 
nation." 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA 


»7 


"  At  least  the  generations  to  come  will  do  you  all 
justice,"  I  said. 

"  I  am  not  sure  of  that,"  he  said.  "  It  depends 
on  who  writes  the  history  for  them.  There  is  one 
Judgment  Seat  whose  awards  it  is  safe  to  set  before 
us.  Before  that  we  have  sought  to  stand.  That 
sentence  is  irrevocably  fixed.  What  it  is  we  shall 
hear  hereafter,  when  the  voice  of  this  generation 
and  all  the  generations  will  move  us  no  more  than 
the  murmur  of  a  troubled  sea  a  great  way  off,  and 
far  below." 

Yet  he  could  not  touch  the  food  we  set  before 
him ;  and  as  he  sat  gazing  into  the  fire,  I  knew 
there  was  one  adverse  verdict  which  he  knew  too 
well,  and  which  moved  his  heart  all  the  more  that 
it  had  not  been  able  to  move  a  hair's  breadth  his 
conscience  or  his  purpose. 

Many  sorrows  met  in  Roger's  heart,  I  knew,  that 
night ;  the  pain  of  pity  repressed  driven  back  on 
the  heart  by  a  stern  sense  of  justice ;  the  pain  of 
being  misjudged  by  some  whom  we  honour;  the 
pain  of  the  resignation  of  the  tenderest  love  and 
hope ;  the  pain  of  giving  bitter  pain  to  the  heart 
dearest  to  hiin  in  the  world.  But  one  pain,  perhaps 
the  worst  of  all,  he  and  men  Avho,  like  Cromwell 
and  Colonel  Hutchinson,  had  carried  out  that  day's 
doom  fearlessly  before  the  world  because  in  un- 
shaken conviction  of  its  justice  before  God,  were 
spared— the  enervating  anguish  of  perplexity  and 
doubt.     Aud  this,  perhaps,  is  the  sorest  pain  of  alL 


r.* 


1 3  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA 

lettice's  diaky. 

"  '  The  space  between  is  the  way  thither,'  Mr, 
Drayton  said.  It  may  be  ;  it  ought  to  be.  Bu* 
is  it?  That  seems  to  me  precisely  the  one  terrible 
question  which,  when  we  can  get  cleared,  all  life  be- 
comes clear  in  the  light  of  the  answer,  but  which  it 
is  so  exceedingly  hard  to  have  cleared. 

"  The  days,  as  they  pass,  whether  clothed  in  light 
and  joy,  as  the  old  time  at  home  was  when  I  had  a 
home,  and  a  mother,  and  so  many  hopes — or  in 
darkness  that  may  be  felt,  as  so  many  of  these  later 
days  have  been  to  me,  are  indeed  surely  leading  us 
on  to  old  age,  to  death,  to  the  unseen  world,  and 
the  judgment.  But  are  they  indeed  leading  us  on 
to  new  youth,  to  changeless  life,  to  heaven,  and  the 
King's  '  Well  done  ?  ' 

"  If  I  were  as  sure  of  the  last  as  of  the  first,  for 
me  and  mine,  I  think  (at  least  there  are  moments 
when  I  think)  I  would  scarcely  care  whether  the 
days  were  dark  or  bright.      For  life  is  to  be  a  war- 

ml  O 

fare.  All  kinds  of  Christian  people  agree  in  that. 
And  having  learned  what  war  means,  I  do  not  ex- 
pect it  to  be  easy  or  pleasant. 

"  But  I  am  not  sure.     For  myself  or  for  any  one. 

"  flower  thinks  the  execution  of  the  king  was  a 
terrible  duty.  I  think  it  was  almost  an  inexpiable 
crime. 

"  Olive,  I  know,  thinks  I  am  breaking  plighted 
faith,  and  betraying  the  most  faithful  affection  in 
the  world  in  parting  from  Roger.  Mistress  Dorothy 
*b inks  I  am  fulfilling  a  sacred  duty,  doing  what  was 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  ig 

saeant  when  we  were  commanded  to  pluck  out  tha 
right  eye.  As  to  the  pain,  I  am  sure  she  is  right. 
If  I  could  only  be  as  sure  as  to  the  duty  !  For  if 
it  is  right,  it  must  be  good,  really,  in  the  end  for 
him  as  well  as  for  me.  How,  I  cannot  imagine.  For 
it  seems  bad  as  well  as  bitter  for  me.  And  Olive 
says  it  will  be  bad  and  embittering  for  him. 

"  Happy,  happy  people,  who  lived  in  the  old  days 
of  dreams,  and  visions,  and  heavenly  voices,  saying, 
'  This  is  the  way  ;  walk  in  it ; '  when  God's  will  be- 
came manifest  in  pillars  of  fire  and  cloud,  in  discri- 
minating dews  and  fires  of  sacrifice,  and  such  sim- 
ple outward  signs  as  poor  perplexed  hearts  like  mine 
can  understand. 

"  Holy  people  say  these  days  of  ours  are  in  ad- 
vance of  those,  that  the  light  has  increased  since 
then.  I  suppose  it  has,  for  holy  people,  who  have 
grown  up  to  it,  and  have  eyes  to  see  those  inward 
leadings,  and  ears  to  hear  those  inward  voices,  which 
to  me  are  so  dim.  But  I  feel  as  if  I  were  still  a 
child,  and  would  fain  have  lived  in  that  simple 
childhood  of  the  world,  when  God  spoke  to  men  in 
plain  ways  as  to  children. 

"  Since  I  came  here,  I  saw  at  the  door  of  one  of 
the  churches  a  very  awful  piece  of  sculpture  of  the 
eouls  in  purgatory,  all  aglow  with  the  fires  in  which 
they  were  burning,  stretching  out  piteous  hands 
through  iron  bars  for  help  and  prayers  from  those 
still  living  on  the  earth. 

u  Mistress  Dorothy  was  with  me,  and  she  clasped 
her  hands  over  her  eyes  in  horror,  as  she  turned 
away 


fO 


ON  BOTH   SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 


"  But  to  me  it  did  not  scorn  so  horrible.  At  leart 
not  for  the  souls  in  purgatory.  If  there  -,rere  a 
purgatory.  Because  the  thought  of  its  beir.g  pur- 
gatory, must  take  away  all  that  is  unendurable  out 
of  the  anguish  of  the  names.  There  are  hearts  on 
earth  tormented  in  fires  as  real.  But  the  sting  of 
their  anguish  is,  they  cannot  be  sure  they  are  pur- 
gatorial fires.  The  anguish  is  clear  enough.  If  we 
could  only  be  as  sure  as  to  the  purification.  That 
the  pain  is  from  the  remedy,  not  from  the  disease  ; 
that  the  flames  are  on  the  way  to  heaven,  not  merci- 
fully confronting  us  on  the  other  way  to  turn  x»  *ack. 

"  It  always  seemed  as  if,  by  Rogers  side,  I »  Aould 
have  orown  eood  like  him.  How  am  I  to  srrow  gcod 
without  him,  severing  myself  from  him  ?  G  h,  mo- 
ther, mother!  why  must  you  leave  me  jus<-  now, 
when  no  one  else  in  the  world  could  have  t  Ad  me 
what  to  do.  Because,  while  loving  me  moi  e  than 
yourself,  you  loved  God's  will  far  more  than  my 
pleasure. 

"  But  Mistress  Dorothy  says,  when  I  am  tempted 
with  '  vain  reasonings '  and  '  debatings  of  the  flesh,' 
I  must  go  back  to  the  first  sacred  impulse,  when,  by 
my  mother's  death-bed,  I  felt  the  death  of  the  king 
for  whom  she  would  have  died  must  place  an  im- 
passable barrier  between  me  and  those  who  slew 
him,  or  consented  to  his  death. 

"  First  thoughts,  says  she,  are  often  from  abpve 
second  thoughts  from  within  or  from  below.      And 
if  we  endure  to  the  end,  third  thoughts  will  come 
crowning  the  divine  impulse  of  the  first  with  a  calm 
Urine  assurance. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  2l 

u  J.  will  try  to  endure  to  the  end.  At  least  1  will 
wait. 

"  To  strengthen  my  resolve,  let  me  go  hack  to 
that  sacred  impulse,  and  through  all  it  led  to,  up  to 
this  day. 

"  It  was  during  those  terrible  days  of  early  Janua- 
ry, when  hope  and  fear  had  passed,  with  uncertain 
ty  ;  and  I  sat  by  my  mother's  bedside,  all  my  heart 
and  soul  absorbed  in  watching  her  depart,  and  in 
relieving  any  suffering  or  supplying  any  want  for 
her  so  fast  passing  away  from  all  suffering  and  from 
all  our  service. 

"  The  east  winds  were  careering  across  the  Fens, 
and  broke  fiercely  against  the  old  house,  and  one 
night  there  was  a  crash  of  the  great  scarred  elm-tree 
filling  close  outside  the  windows.  But  she  heeded 
it  not ;  and  I  remember  feeling  a  strange  kind  of 
despairing  triumph  over  all  the  violence  of  the 
elements.  They  might  rage  as  at  the  Deluge  ;  but 
they  could  neither  hinder  nor  hasten  the  slow,  silent 
progress  of  the  awful  power  which  was  silently  re- 
moving her  from  us. 

"  Before,  in  days  of  doubt  and  hope,  I  had  been 
wont  to  watch  the  winds  with  a  kind  of  supersti- 
tious solicitude,  as  if  there  were  some  mysterious 
sympathy  between  nature  and  men,  and  the  ravings 
of  her  storms  had  been  ominous  of  evil  to  us.  But 
now  that  spell  seemed  broken.  The  sympathy  be« 
twecn  us  and  nature  ceased  with  death.  To  her  it 
was  natural,  a  link  in  her  endless  chain  of  ever-recur 
ring  changes.  To  her,  life  and  death  were  but  as 
day  and  night,  bright  or  dark  phases  of  her  ceaseless 


2  2  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

revolutions.  She  could  see  her  children  die  as 
calmly  as  her  suns  set.  To  us  death  was  unnatural, 
a  convulsion,  a  horror,  a  curse.  The  terrible  thing 
which  seemed  to  assimilate  us  to  her,  in  reality 
rent  us  from  her  sphere  altogether.  A  week  before, 
when  we  began  to  fear  there  was  danger,  I  trembled 
at  the  wind  wailing  in  the  dead  branches  of  the  elms, 
or  at  a  bird  beating  its  wings  against  the  window. 
Now  that  she  was  dying,  I  could  have  smiled  at  an 
earthquake  or  a  tornado. 

"  All  the  outward  and  visible  world,  the  terrors 
of  its  stormy  nights  as  well  as  the  sweet  familiar 
delights  of  its  dawns  and  days,  seemed  to  lie  out- 
side me  like  a  world  of  shadows,  as  for  the  first  time 
I  learned    in  my  inmost  heart  that  we  are    but 
strangers,  not  belonging  to  it,  but  passing  swiftly 
through.      As  I  gazed  into  the  eyes  which  so  soon 
were  to  cease  to  be  the  portal  where  my  soul  could 
meet  hers,  my  own  body  seemed  to  become  a  mere 
phantasm,   the   innermost    shell   of  this  world   of 
phantasms,  where  we  stay  a  little  while,  to  read  its 
lessons  and  experience  its  changes,  and  then  vanish, 
we  from  it  and  it  from  us.     It  was  not  so  with  the 
conflict  then  going  on  about  the  king.     There,  con- 
sciences were  concerned,  and  right  and  wrong.    And 
by  her  dying  bed,  right  and  wrong  seemed  the  only 
realities  left.     I  dared  not  break  on  the  calm  of  her 
spirit  with  oue  word  that  might  recall  the  conflicts 
of  parties.     Thus  Love  itself  severed  her  spirit  from 
me  before  death  had  sealed  her  eyes.   And  this  was 
terrible  beyond  all.     For  as  I  sat  there,  the  convic- 
tion became  clearer  and  clearer  that  to  put  the  king 


OK  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


*J 


t:>  death  was  crime,  a  crime  she  would  have  abhor 
red,  a  crime  which,  if  he  persisted  in  the  doing  i% 
must  sever  me  from  Roger. 

"  But  alas,  when  Death  came,  this  was  all  terriblj 
reversed. 

"  When  the  feeble  voice  which  had  called  on  the 
Heavenly  King,  and  the  eyes  whose  tender  smiles 
for  me  had  changed  at  the  last  into  the  awed  yet 
joyful  intensity  of  the  gaze  with  which  her  spirit 
seemed  to  welcome  heaven  and  enter  it,  the  whole 
unseen  world  seemed  to  vanish  from  my  heart  with 
her,  and  nothing  was  left  but  the  eyes  which  could 
never  look  at  me,  and  the  lips  which  could  never 
speak  to  me  more. 

"For  this  honor  I  was  wholly  unprepared.  1 
thought,  when  she  went,  she  would  have  left  me 
standing,  if  but  for  one  never-to-be-forgotten  mo- 
ment, on  the  threshold  of  an  opened  Paradise  !  She 
left  me  shivering  on  the  brink  of  an  impenetrable 
darkness.  I  could  not  feel  even  on  the  brink  of  an 
abyss.  To  have  believed  in  an  abyss  even  would 
have  been  an  infinite  relief.  The  horror  was  whether 
the  darkness  hid  anything,  whether  there  was  a  be- 
yond at  all. 

"  Could  it  be,  indeed,  that  all,  absolutely  all,  any 
one  saw  of  death  was  just  the  heaving  breast,  the 
labouring  breath,  the  lew,  faint,  intermittent  sighs; 
all  which,  in  all  animated  creatures,  marks  the  dis- 
solution of  natural  life,  and  nothing  to  mark  the 
distinctive,  continuing,  spiritual  life  of  man? 

"  Was  faith,  then,  to  step  so  absolutely  alone,  un« 
lighted  by  the  least  glimmer  of  the  old  familiar  light, 
into  the  unknown  ? 


H  ON  LOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

"No  one  else  arouud  me  seemed  to  experience 
this  terrible  darkness. 

"  They  recalled  the  last  words  she  spoke ;  they 
spoke  of  the  pure  raiment,  clean  and  white,  in  which 
her  spirit  was  clothed,  of  the  golden  streets  she  was 
treading,  of  the  'harps  of  God'  to  which  she  was 
listening.  But  the  words  fell  altogether  outside  me, 
like  some  sweet,  pathetic  story  of  faery  or  romance, 
such  as  she  used  to  tell  me. 

"  I,  too,  from  my  childhood  had  delighted  in  those 
fair  pictures  of  a  Paradise  beyond  the  grave,  of  the 
city  with  gates  of  moon-like  pearl,  and  walls  of  ra- 
diant gems ;  of  trees  whose  leaves  were  healing  and 
whose  fruit  was  life ;  of  waters  clear  as  crystal,  able 
to  satisfy  immortal  thirst.  I  had  delighted  in  those 
pictures,  my  fancy  floating  on  thein  as  on  the  glow- 
Lag  clouds  of  twilight,  caring  not  to  discriminate 
what  was  cloud,  what  were  the  bright  glorified 
heights  of  earth,  and  what  were  heavenly,  enduring 
Btars;  caring  not  to  separate  symbol  from  fact. 

"  But  now  all  this  was  changed.  What  were  fair 
pictures  to  me,  brought  face  to  fiice  with  this  visible, 
terrible  fact,  that  the  spirit  which  had  been  my 
guide  before  I  could  remember,  that  iny  mother  her- 
self had  gone  where  no  cry  of  passionate  entreaty, 
no  tender  ministry  of  love  could  reach,  no  agony 
of  prayer  avail  to  win  the  faintest  sign  that  she 
heard,  or  cared,  or  existed? 

"  A  few  hours  since  she  had  said,  '  Throw  my 
warm  old  mantle  round  thee,  Lettice,  the  nights  are 
chilL'  She  had  taken  food  from  my  hands,  and 
murmured,  smiling,  'Once  I  gave  it  thee.'     And 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


25 


now  1  he  farthest  star  that  sent  the  faintest  ray  from 
the  utmost  verge  of  the  world,  was  near,  compared 
with  the  impassable  gulf  of  distance  between  her 
and  aie.  What  were  fair  visions  of  angels  to  me  ? 
What  had  they  been  to  the  Magdalene  of  old  ?  II 
she  lived,  she  was  the  same  loving,  tender  saintly 
mother  still,  unlike  any  one  else  in  the  universe; 
not  a  white-robed  angel  lost  in  an  overwhelming 
multitude  of  other  white-robed  angels,  singing. 

"My  heart  ached,  and  cried  to  heaven  for  one 
word,  one  syllable,  one  touch,  to  show  that  she  was 
there.  Would  God  give  me  instead,  only  fair  pic- 
tures of  an  innumerable  multitude  far  off,  serenely 
singing  as  if  they  had  not  left  any  on  earth  bitterly 
weeping  ? 

"I  scarcely  dared  to  think  those  thoughts,  much 
less  to  utter  them,  until  one  day,  the  dreadful  day 
when  we  left  the  house  with  the  precious  burden 
through  which  she  had  been  all  she  was  to  me,  and 
returned  with  nothing,  the  passion  of  my  grief 
overcame  me. 

"  Olive  and  Dr.  Antony  had  left.  Mistress  Dor 
othy  was  standing  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  in  the 
wainscotted  parlour  which  they  had  reserved  fur 
me. 

"  It  was  not  her  wont  to  dwell  much  on  symbols 
and  pictures,  whether  painted  with  words  or  colours. 
And  seeing  me  sit  with  clasped  hands  in  a  kind  of 
stupor,  for  I  could  not  weep,  she  said,  not  in  a  tone 
of  consolation  so  much  as  of  rebuke, — 

" '  Child,  sorrow  not  as  those  without  hope.  It 
i*  a  sin.     Thy  mother  is  with  God.' 


26  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

"  There  was  something  in  her  words  which  went 
more  to  ray  heart  than  all  the  tenderest  consolations 
had  done.  They  did  not  seem  said  so  much  to 
comfort  me,  as  simply  because  they  were  true. 

"  *  If  I  could  hope,  I  would  not  sorrow,'  I  mur- 
nured. 

"  '  There  is  much  reason  to  hope,'  said  she.  '  Pa- 
*-ista  even  have  been  saved,  I  doubt  not,  at  least 
lefore  the  Reformation.  And  Lady  Lucy  was  not 
a  Papist.  I  doubt  not  that  the  Spirit  of  God  dwelt 
in  her  as  his  temple.  The  Lord,  indeed,  of  old  suf- 
fered neither  idol  nor  trafficker  in  his  temple.  But, 
mayhap,  the  traffickers  are  worse  than  the  idols. 
And,  indeed,  dear  heart,'  she  concluded,  '  I  do  think 
sometimes  we  Protestants  are  like  the  later  Jews, 
if  the  Papists  and  the  Papistically  inclined  are  like 
the  earlier.  We  have  cleared  out  the  idols ;  but 
we  keep  the  tables  of  the  money-changers,  mayhap 
the  basest  idolatry  of  all.' 

"She  had  entirely  misunderstood  my  perplexity. 
That  she  should  imagine  my  mother's  title  to  bless- 
edness required  defence  to  me,  would  have  stung 
me  to  an  indignant  reply  at  other  moments ;  but  I 
was  too  cast  down  to  be  angry,  and  I  only  said, — 

"  '  It  is  not  of  my  mother  I  doubt,  but  of  heaven ; 
of  everything.  It  ^eems  as  if  all  my  old  faith  had 
vanished  like  a  dream.' 

"  I  scarcely  thought  of  the  weight  of  my  words, 
until  their  own  echo  startled  me  ;  and  I  trembled  at 
what  effect  they  might  have  on  Mistress  Dorothy. 

"  But,  to  my  surprise,  her  first  words,  spoken  ai 
if  to  herself,  were, — 


ON  B  jTU  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  T, 

t: '  Tliank  God ;  the  good  work  has  begun.'  Then 
laying  her  hand  with  unwonted  tenderness  on  mine, 
she  said,  '  The  tempter  is  cruel,  dear  heart ;  he  is 
cruel  indeed.  But  fear  not,  poor,  torn,  forsaken 
lamb.  The  eye  of  the  Shepherd  is  on  thee,  and  none 
shall  pluck  thee  out  of  His  hand.  The  tempter  is 
cruel,  not  because  he  is  strong,  but  because  he  is 
weak ;  he  rages,  not  because  he  is  victorious,  but 
because  he  is  vanquished;  vanquished  jn  behalf  of 
all  the  flock,  vanquished  for  thee,  since  the  Lord  is 
leading  thee.  His  first  lesson  is  ever  to  show  the 
emptiness  and  the  darkness ;  and  He  has  shown  thee 
this.  Do  not  strive  to  hasten  His  handiwork  by 
blending  it  with  thine.  Give  thyself  up  to  Him  to 
be  poor  and  blind,  to  walk  in  darkness,  to  have  no 
light,  as  long  as  He  wills.  He  will  lay  His  hands 
on  thee  when  the  hour  is  come.  He  has  besrun,  and 
He  will  finish.  But  thou  must  tread  this  part  of 
the  way  alone.  Take  heed  how,  by  conferring  with 
flesh  and  blood,  thou  break  the  silence  He  is  making 
in  thy  heart.  Hitherto  thou  hast  been  dreaming. 
We  are  near  waking  when  we  dream  that  w« 
dream.'* 

"  And  she  left  me  alone.  But  although  she  did 
not  say  so,  I  knew  she  would  go  and  wrestle  for  me 
alone  till  I  had  won  the  victory. 

"  There  was  help  in  the  thought. 

4t  Yet  I  could  not  think  she  was  altogether  right. 
I  c  mid  not  think  all  my  former  life  a  dream ;  that 
all  the  prayers  which,  childish  and  weak  as  they 

*  These  words  are  in  "  Novalis." — Editor. 


j 8  0^    BOTH   S.DKS   OF  TUB  SEA. 

might  have  been,  had  helped  me  to  bear  pamfift 
things  and  to  do  difficult  things,  were  delusions ;  or 
that  the  thoughts  I  had  had  about  God's  loving- 
kindness,  and  the  joy  in  His  works,  were  unreal 
fancies,  that  came  not  from  Him.  I  could  not  give 
the  lie  to  all  that  had  been  heavenly  and  holy  in  my 
efforts  and  aspirings.  I  could  not  draw  a  sharp 
border-line  between  one  part  of  my  life  and  the 
other,  and  say,  Beyond  that  all  is  heathendom, 
where  no  God  is;  and  here  God  begins.  It  seemed 
to  me  either  He  had  been  always  with  me  and  was 
near  me  now,  or  all  was  delusion,  and  I  could  never 
reach  Him.  Besides,  it  was  of  my  mother  my  heart 
was  full,  not  of  myself.  And  the  words  of  Mistress 
Dorothy  which  remained  with  me  were, — 

"  '  Thy  mother  is  with  God.' 

"  They  turned  the  current  of  my  thoughts  from 
the  future  state  to  the  Living  Presence.  Fancy, 
being  of  the  brain,  lay  dumb  and  motionless,  her 
fairy  wings  folded,  as  I  think  they  ever  must  be, 
at  the  touch  of  real  sorrow.  Imagination,  being 
of  the  heart,  after  vainly  striving  to  penetrate  to 
the  heart  of  things,  sank,  dazzled  by  the  impene- 
trable darkness,  blinded  by  the  ineffectual  effort  to 
gaze  into  the  blank  out  of  which  she  could  avail  to 
shape  nothing  but  emptiness  and  darkness,  no  form 
and  no  light, — the  bare  negation  of  all  she  knew. 

"  Then  Faith,  turning  away  from  the  sepulchre 
with  its  impenetrable  darkness,  looked  up  into  heav- 
en, and  listening,  heard  the  living  words, — 

"  '  Thy  mother  is  with  God.' 

"Dust  to  dust;  spirit  to  Spirit;  love  to  Love; 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  29 

weakness  with  Power;  the  mortal  with  the  Eternal, 
The  thought  did  not  bring  a  softening  gush  of  ten 
derness,  but  a  solemn  repose  of  awe  ;  a  silence,  a 
hush,  a  subjection,  in  which  my  poor,  weary,  tossed 
heart  seemed  to  gather  strength. 

O  CD 

"  The  words  were  the  last  with  me  at  night ; 
they  made  a  calm  in  my  heart,  and  I  slept.  They 
were  the  first  with  me  in  the  morning  ;  and  through 
the  days  they  rose  from  my  heart  like  a  prayer. 

"  Strong  in  that  calm,  on  the  Sunday  after  hei 
chamber  had  been  made  empty,  I  ventured  into  it 
alone,  to  read  the  service  for  the  day  once  more 
where  I  had  read  it  so  often  to  her.  I  came  to  the 
Apostles'  Creed.  The  snow  lay  on  the  ground, 
hushing  the  earth  with  a  death-like  hush.  All  the 
world,  seen  and  unseen,  earth  and  heaven,  seemed 
to  me  full  of  silence.  I  could  only  think  of  heaven 
itself  as  a  vast  snow-white  mountain  of  God,  silent 
and  spotless,  where  the  white-robed  angels  silently 
came  and  went  on  ministries  of  mercy,  and  the 
white-robed  human  creatures  neither  came  nor 
went,  but  rested  and  adored,  absorbed  in  the  un- 
utterable light  around  them. 

"  Silence  in  her  death-chamber ;  silence  on  the 
cold  snowy  earth  ;  silence  in  the  pure  light  of 
heaven  ;  silence  in  my  heart. 

"  But  as  I  sat  there,  a  little  robin  came  and 
perched  on  the  snowy  window-sill,  turning  his 
quick  eyes  from  side  to  side,  as  if  looking  for  the 
erumbfe  my  mother  never  let  me  forget  to  scatter 
for  him.  Then  he  hopped  off  to  a  neighboring 
Bpray,  and  poured  out  a  brief  happy  caro)  there, 
3* 


3o  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

leaving  the  print  of  his  pretty  crimson  feet  on  the 
enow. 

u  The  silence  of  the  earth  was  broken  by  hin  song. 

"  There  was  still  a  Master's  table  from  which  the 
crumbs  fell  for  him. 

"  The  silence  in  my  heart  was  broken  by  the  rush 
of  tearful  recollection  his  little  song  had  brought, 
and  1  wept  and  sobbed  as  if  my  heart  were  break- 
ing. Yet  through  all  I  felt  it  was  not  breaking, 
but  being  healed,  as  never  before. 

"  For  a  word  came  to  me  which  seemed  to  change 
the  silence  in  heaven  and  earth  into  music. 

"  '  I  believe  in  God  the  Father  Almighty,  and  in 
Jesus  Christ  His  only  Son  our  Lord.' 

"  The  Father  and  the  Son. 

"  This  is  the  fountain-truth  of  Christianity.  This 
is  God.  No  mere  solitary  immutable  Unity,  but 
the  living,  eternal  communion  of  Eternal  Love. 
Not  merely  immutable,  incomprehensible  Being ; 
but  ever-creating,  all-comprehending  Life. 

<;  This  is  Eternal  Life  ;  the  fruitful  source  of  all 
life.  This  is  Eternal  Love,  not  an  attribute  with- 
out object,  but  the  Father  and  the  Son  eternally 
loving — the  loving  rejoicing  fountain  of  all  love 
sending  forth  the  Spirit  of  power  and  love. 

"This  is  heaven.  Where  the  Father  and  the 
Son  abide,  and  the  holy  angels  and  the  redeemed : 
not  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  far-off  separ- 
ate light,  but  folded  into  the  communion  of  eternal 
present  love.  '  That  the  love  wherewith  Thou  hast 
loved  Me  may  be  in  them  and  I  in  them.'' 

"  God  is  ca/led  the  Father,  not  in  condescension 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  y, 

to  our  understandings,  because  a  human  father's 
love  is  the  best  image  human  creatures  can  have 
of  Him,  but  because  He  is  the  eternal  Father,  and 
the  love  of  the  Father  and  the  Son  is  the  root  and 
bond  of  all  creation. 

"  Heaven  is  called  the  Father's  house,  not  because 
a  human  home  is  the  purest  picture  our  poor  dim 
hearts  can  form  of  heaven,  but  because  it  is  the 
Father's  house — the  parent-home  and  sacred  health 
of  the  universe. 

"  And  therefore  the  immortality  of  pure  human 
love,  of  all  that  is  truly  human  (not  a  perversion 
of  original  humanity)  is  ensured  not  by  an  Almighty 
Fiat,  not  even  fundamentally  by  the  incarnation  of 
the  Son  in  whom  God  is  manifest  to  us,  but  by  the 
very  nature  of  God. 

"  It  was  to  this  love  my  mother  had  been  taken 
up.  and  into  the  unutterable  fulness  of  this  joy — 
'  My  joy ' — the  joy  of  the  Son.  What  images 
could  be  glowing  enough  to  picture  it  ? 

"  If  the  heavenly  visions  of  the  Apocalypse  h  d 
been  blotted  out  to-day,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  t  ej 
must  have  sprung  up  spontaneously  around  the 
Apostles'  Creed  to-morrow. 

"  Living  fountains  of  water,  trees  of  life  and 
leaves  of  healing,  gates  of  pearl  and  walls  of  pre- 
cious stones,  raiment  white  as  the  light,  rivers 
bright  as  crystal,  harpers  with  the  harps  of  God, 
songs  like  the  sound  of  many  waters ;  the  very 
pavement  which  the  feet  of  the  '  many  sons '  were 
to  tread,  the  sea  by  which  they  stood,  radiant  witb 
combinations   >f  glory  impossible  on  earth,  'watei 


32  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

mingled  with  fire,'  '  pure  gold  like  transparent  glass, 
— what  are  these  but  faint  pictures  in  such  colors 
as  earth  and  earth's  skies  can  furnish  of  the  unut- 
terable joy  enshrined  in  the  words,  '  /  in  them,  and 
'■hou  in  Me  ;'  '  Thou  hast  loved  them  as  thou  hast  loved 
Me  P 

"  I  began  to  understand  how  my  mother  could 
be  still  herself,  no  tender  touch  of  the  old  familiar 
affection  lost,  yet  full  of  a  joy  which  must  over- 
flow in  the  new  song. 

"  For  as  I  listened  my  heart  recognized  a  distinc- 
tion in  the  music. 

"Not  like  an  angel's  her  heart;  not  like  an 
angel's  was  her  song. 

"  The  pathetic  human  tone  should  never  vanish 
from  the  songs  of  the  redeemed.  The  agony  of 
redemption,  the  rapture  of  reconciliation,  should 
never  be  forgotten  there. 

"To  all  He  is  the  Father  of  Spirits.  To  each 
of  the  lost  sons  He  is  the  Father  who  saw  him 
w  ile  a  great  way  off  and  ran  and  fell  on  his  neck 
an  kissed  him,  and  said,  Rejoice  with  me,  for  this 
my  son  was  lost  and  is  found. 

"  To  all  He  is  the  Eternal  Son.  To  us  He  is  the 
Son  who  became  the  Lamb,  who  bore  our  sins  and 
carried  our  sorrows,  and  redeemed  us  to  God  by 
His  blood. 

"  I  suppose  my  face  shone  with  something  of  the 
joy  in  my  heart,  for  Mistress  Dorothy  said  solemnly 
to  me  that  evening,  as  she  bade  me  Good-night  in 
my  room,  '  Has  the  tempter  departed,  and  have  th« 
angels  come  and  ministered  to  thee  ?' 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  3l 

"  Then  I  told  her  something  of  the  new  light  in 
which  the  old  truths  had  come  to  me  in  ray  mother's 
eharnber.  She  seemed  to  take  hope  concerning  me, 
but  not  without  fear,  and  questioned  me  as  to  wheth- 
er I  had  experienced  this  and  that,  and  through  what 
instruments  this  deliverance  had  come. 

"  I  could  only  say,  '  I  think  it  was  thou,  Mistress 
Dorothy,  and  the  Apostles'  Creed,  ai.d  the  robin 
redbreast.'     She  looked  doubtful. 

"  '  I  never  heard  of  any  being  led  in  such  a  way 
as  that,'  said  she,  '  and  I  cannot  quite  make  it  out. 
Doubtless,  however,  the  Word  of  God  is  still  His 
Word  if  it  be  written  on  the  Pope's  mitre,  m;i:h 
more  in  the  Apostles'  Creed.  Only  be  sure  it  is  a 
Word  fiom  Him  thou  art  resting  on.  Nothing  else 
will  stand  when  the  heavens  and  the  earth  are 
shaken.  And  as  to  the  robin,'  she  added, '  no  doubt 
the  Almighty  once  used  ravens;  and  He  might  "use 
robins.  I  have  hope  of  thee,  dear  heart,  but  I 
would  fain  be  more  assured.  I  never  heard  of  any 
soul  being  brought  into  the  fold  by  such  a  way 
before.' 

"  But  do  any  two  wandering  souls  come  back  by 
the  same  way  ? 

"  It  seem  as  if  the  ways  back  were  countless  as 
the  wanderings  :  the  Door  is  one,  being  the  One 
who  stands  there  to  let  us  in. 

"  Nor  am  I  sure  that  that  was  my  first  coming  to 
the  fold. 

"  It  seems  to  me  as  life  were  in  some  sense  one 
long  course  of  conversion,  one  series  of  translations 
from  darkness  to  light.  Is  not  the  sun  always  eon- 
rertiug  the  sun-flowers  by  shining  on  them? 


H 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


"  Once  and  for  ever  in  one  sense ;  day  by  day  in 
another. 

"It  seems  to  me  as  if  every  fresh  sorrow  or  joy 
opens  new  depths  in  our  hearts,  which  must  he  filled 
with  fresh  springs  of  the  living  water  or  else  he- 
come  empty  and  waste ;  as  if  every  new  revelation 
of  life  needs  to  be  met  by  a  new  and  deeper  revela- 
tion of  God. 

"  That  Sunday,  so  full  of  peace  to  me,  was  the 
28th  of  January. 

"  On  the  30th  the  fatal  scaffold  stood  outside  the 
Banqueting  Hall,  and  the  king  was  led  forth  to  die 
the  death  of  a  malefactor,  in  the  presence  of  his 
people  and  of  all  the  nations. 

"  On  the  evening  of  the  next  day  the  news  reached 
Nctherby. 

"  Mistress  Dorothy  entered  my  room  after  I  had 
laid  down  to  rest. 

"  '  It  is  done !'  she  murmured  under  her  breath. 
•  They  have  laid  their  hands  on  the  Lord's  anointed 
The  irremediable  crime  is  committed.'  And  then, 
as  usual  with  the  Puritans  in  moments  of  strong 
emotion,  falling  into  Bible  language  as  into  a  mother- 
tongue,  '  The  crown  is  fallen  from  our  heads,'  she 
said  ;  '  Woe  unto  us  that  we  have  sinned  !' 

"  I  could  not  speak. 

"'Before  the  windows  of  his  palace!'  she  con- 
tinued, 'at  mid-day,  in  face  of  heaven  and  of  all  the 
people.' 

"  '  And  not  a  voice  to  plead  for  him,'  I  said  ;  '  not 
one  arm  lifted  to  rescue  ! ' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  35 

rt'0(  what  avail?  the  Ironsides  were  there,'  she 
replied  bitterly.  '  They  girded  the  scaffold  like  a 
wall  of  brass.  They  would  not  suffer  the  poor  peo- 
ple to  come  near  enough  to  listen  to  a  word  from 
the  dying  lips  of  their  king.' 

"  My  eyes  met  hers. 

"  '  The  Ironsides  were  there  ! '  it  was  all  1  could 
say  or  think.  For  before  me  rose  the  figure  of 
Roger  Drayton  on  horseback  amongst  his  men,  stern 
and  motionless,  his  soul  masked  in  iron  more  rigid 
than  his  armour,  not  suffering  the  grief  and  pity  at 
his  heart  to  relax  one  mascla  of  the  rigid  resolution 
of  his  face. 

"  And  between  him  and  me  for  ever  that  scaffold 
and  the  shrouded  corpse  of  the  martyred  king  ! 

"  I  had,  as  it  were,  been  living  in  heaven  with  her 
who  was  at  rest  there ;  and  now  the  words  came  U 
me  with  a  terrible  desolation,  '  I  am  no  more  in  tht 
world,  but  these  are  in  the  world.''  Around  her,  rest, 
and  peace,  and  songs  of  joy.  Around  me  crime,ainl 
separation,  and  the  terrible  necessity  to  resolve. 

"  Mistress  Dorothy  spoke  again,  and  her  voice 
trembled, — 

"  '  This  is  no  longer  a  home  for  thee  or  for  me, 
dear  heart.  I  feared  that  thy  joy  had  been  sent 
thee  to  arm  thee  for  some  uncommon  woe  ! ' 

"  '  No  more  a  home  for  me,  indeed,'  I  said ;  '  but 
how  no  longer  for  thee  ?' 

"  'I  told  my  brother  long  since  that  if  ever  thin 
crime  was  consummated,  and  neither  he  nor  Roger 
lifted  up  their  voices  against  it,  I  could  not  sleep 
another  ni<xht  under  his  roof,  lest  I  should  seem  tc 


5 6  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

embrue  my  hands  in  sacred  blood.  It  is  not  for  uj 
to  be  like  Pilate,  languidly  washing  our  hands  of 
the  crime  we  or  ours  might  have  averted.' 

"  '  But  whither  will  you  flee  ?'  I  said. 

" '  I  have  a  small  tenement  at  Kidderminster, 
where  godly  Mr.  Baxter  dwelleth,  a  man  who  is  as 
true  to  his  king  as  to  his  God.  There,  if  thou  wilt, 
Bhall  be  a  shelter  for  thee  and  me.  It  will  be  no 
palace,  but  the  best  I  have  shall  be  thine ;  and  with 
Mr.  Baxter's  ministry  that  may  suffice  us  both.' 

"  The  generous  ofter  touched  me  ;  but  I  feit  that 
my  father's  home  was  the  only  one  for  me,  now 
that  Roger's  way  and  mine  must  part  for  ever. 

"  She  shook  her  head  when  I  said  so. 

"  '  Thy  father  is  among  papists  and  idolaters,'  she 
replied.  'It  is  written,  "He  that  loveth  father  or 
mother  more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me."  ' 

"  '  If  my  father  is  in  a  place  of  peril,'  I  said,  '  all 
the  more  my  place  is  by  his  side.' 

"  She  was  silent  some  minutes ;  her  eyes  cast 
down,  her  lips  set,  and  her  hands  grasping  each 
other. 

"  '  Child,  thou  art  right.  The  heart  is  deceitful 
above  all  things.  I  thought  I  was  pleading  for  God, 
and  I  was  pleading  for  myself.  I  will  take  thee  to 
thy  refuge  in  France,  and  then  I  will  go  to  my  house 
alone.  Canst  thou  be  ready  by  to-morrow  ?  I  Lave 
vowed  never  to  sleep  nor  to  break  bread  under  this 
roof  again.' 

"  '  The  sooner  the  better,'  I  said ;  for  I  felt  as  if 
nothing  but  the  overhanging  shadow  of  that  dread- 
ful scaftbld  could  strengthen  me  for  the  sacrifice 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA.  -7 

[  dreaded  lest  time  might  make  the  treason  against 
the  king  sink  in  my  eyes  into  a  mere  political  er- 
ror, and  my  own  departure  seem  more  and  moi-e 
like  a  treason  against  those  to  whom  I  owed  so 
much,  and  whom  I  loved  so  well. 

"I  spent  the  night,  under  Mistress  Dorothy'a 
direction,  in  packing  the  few  things  I  might  carry 
with  me. 

"  In  the  morning,  when  Mr.  Drayton's  step  was 
first  head  on  the  stairs,  Mistress  Dorothy  went  out 
and  followed  him  into  his  room  below.  For  a  few 
moments  they  were  alone ;  then  I  heard  her  step 
re-ascending  the  stairs.  It  was  not  brisk,  as  was 
her  wont,  but  slow,  like  the  tread  of  an  aged  person. 
She  re-entered  the  chamber,  looking  very  white. 

"  '  It  is  settled,  child,'  she  said.  '  My  brother 
will  not  hinder  us.' 

"  She  would  not  be  present  at  the  fatnily-prayer 
that  morning,  nor  at  breakfast,  true  to  her  vow. 

"Immediately  afterwards,  Mr.  Drayton  requested 
an  interview  with  me  in  his  room. 

"'My  child,'  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  '  conscience  is  sacred.  Are  you  sure  that 
in  this  deed  you  are  obeying,  not  my  sister's  con- 
science, nor  even  your  mother's,  but  your  own  ?' 

"The  question  opened  a  labyrinth  I  could  not 
disentangle. 

"  '  It  is  so  difficult  to  tell  what  is  our  own  and 
what  we  inherit,'  I  said.  '  My  mother  was  my  con- 
science, and  I  believe  I  am  doing  what  she  would 
have  desired.  Politics  she  said  women  must  leave 
to  men.  But  loyalty  was  like  religion  or  affection. 
4 


38  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

To  the  king  every  subject  is  personally  related  as 
to  a  parent  or  to  God.  That  is  what  she  believed 
and  I  believe.  I  dare  not  debate  with  myself.  T 
dare  not  reason  about  what  I  feel  to  be  a  crime,  or 
remain  with  those  who  sanction  it.  I  dare  not,  Mr. 
Drayton,  trust  myself  any  longer  to  all  that  tempts 
me  to  stay.' 

"  He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  once  or  twice 
with  hasty  steps. 

"  '  Then,  my  child,'  he  said  at  length,  '  neither 
dare  I  debate  with  thee  nor  hinder  thee.  I  have 
loved  thee  as  I  love  Olive,  and  hoped  to  have  a 
right  to  call  by  a  name  as  dear.  But  if  thou  wilt 
go,  God  forbid  I  should  make  my  house  a  prison. 
By  noon,  an  escort  shall  be  ready  to  convey  thee 
and  my  sister  to  the  coast.' 

"  He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  By  noon  we  had 
left  the  old  house.  By  the  morrow  we  were  on  the 
sea  on  our  way  to  France. 

"  In  the  dusk,  before  we  sailed,  a  boat  came  to 
the  ship's  side,  and  a  tall,  muffled  figure  sprang  on 
board.  Of  what  happened,  from  the  time  the  ves- 
sel began  to  toss  on  the  short  waves,  I  knew  not 
much,  buried  in  cushions  among  the  luggage.  But 
when  the  French  coast  was  within  reach,  and  we 
were  waiting  for  the  tide  to  enter  the  harbour  of 
Calais,  there  was  some  little  stir  about  a  boat  put- 
ting off  from  the  ship  ;  and  as  I  lay  gazing  towards 
the  harbour,  I  saw  this  boat  struggle  through  the 
breakers  to  a  point  of  rock,  where  one  of  the  crew 
Bprang  on  shore. 

"The  next  morning  we  landed      We  were  met 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  3? 

by  the  keeper  of  a  hostelry,  who  courteously  told 
us  that  our  apartments  wei-e  ready.  And  on  the 
morrow,  as  I  was  sitting  alone  after  breakfast,  whilst 
Mistress  Dorothy  had  gone  to  make  preparation 
for  our  journey,  there  was  a  clatter  of  a  horse's  feet 
In  the  court-yard,  and  in  a  few  minutes  my  father 
strode  into  the  room  and  bade  me  welcome. 

"  '  But  by  what  miracle,  father,  couldst  thou  know 
we  were  here,'  I  said ;  as  soon  as  I  could  speak  for 
his  kisses  and  my  tears. 

"  '  Didst  thou  not  know  ?  No  miracle  ;  only 
Roger  Drayton  riding  through  the  night  to  tell  me.' 
"  It  was  Roger,  then,  who  had  crept  on  board  in 
the  dusk,  whose  boat  I  had  watched  struggling 
through  the  breakers  to  the  coast.  And  I  dared 
not  trust  myself  to  ask  where  he  was  or  when  he 
would  depart ! 

"  '  A  brave  and  gallant  gentleman  he  is,'  said  my 
father ;  '  a  thousand  pities  such  should  lend  their 
swords  to  traitors.' 

"  Then  I  began  to  tell  him  of  all  Mr.  Drayton's 
goodness,  and  how  Mistress  Dorothy  had  undertaken 
the  voyage  in  her  motherly  care  of  me. 

"  At  that  moment  she  re-appeared,  and  my  father 
poured  out  his  thanks. 

"  But  she  was  very  reserved  and  grave. 
" '  Sir  "Walter,'  she  said,  at  last.  '  Little  thanks  I 
deserve  for  bringing  this  innocent  lamb  hither.  I 
have  seen  awful  things  to-day.  At  the  door  of  a 
church  I  saw  a  number  of  frightful  images  in  a  cage, 
standing  in  painted  flames,  and  stretching  out  their 
hands  through  the  bars,  begging  for  money  to  buy 


tO  ON   BOTH   SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

them  out  of  torment.  And  while  I  was  looking  on 
this,  a  procession  of  boys  and  men,  in  white  clothes, 
passed  me,  bearing  aloft  something  under  a  canopy, 
and  wherever  it  came  the  people  fell  on  their  knees 
and  worshipped.  I  asked  a  sober-looking  woman 
what  it  was,  and  as  far  as  I  could  understand  she 
said  it  was  "  our  Lord."  They  thought  they  were 
carrying  God.  I  had  heard  much  of  Papistry, 
but  I  had  not  thought  to  come  to  places  like  Gaza 
and  Ashdod  almost  within  sight  of  England. ' 

" '  It  was  the  Host,  good  mistress  Dorothy,'  re- 
plied my  father,  explanatorily;  'the  Holy  Sacra- 
ment. Doubtless  there  is  superstition  in  their  rev- 
erence. But  I  must  not  forget  my  message  from 
your  nephew.  Roger  Drayton  desires  to  know 
whether  you  will  be  ready  to  sail  under  his  care  to- 
night.' 

Mistress  Dorothy  gave  a  questioning  glance  at 
me,  and  hesitated. 

"  '  Let  us  persuade  you,'  my  father  said, '  to  tarry 
awhile  with  us.' 

" '  God  forbid,  Sir  Walter,'  she  replied,  <  that  I 
should  tarry  a  night  longer  than  I  need,  among 
these  Philistines.  And  God  forgive  me,'  she  added 
solemnly,  '  for  bringing  this  lamb  of  the  flock 
anions  them.' 

" '  Must  I  then  tell  Mr.  Drayton  you  will  accom- 
pany him  V  ' 

"  Mistress  Dorothy  hesitated  again. 

"  '  It  is  a  sore  perplexity,'  she  said,  at  last, '  to 
have  to  choose  between  this  land  of  idolaters  and 
the  company  of  those  who,  kith  and  kin   of  mine 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  +1 

though  they  be,  have  embrued  their  hands  in  sacred, 
►hough  I  may  not  say  innocent  blood.' 

" '  Had  Roger  Drayton  aught  to  do  with  that 
monstrous  iniquity?'  my  father  exclaimed  fiercely. 

"'  Alas,  was  he  not  one  of  General  Cromwell's 
Ironsides  ?'  replied  Mistress  Dorothy.  '  The  heart 
of  youth  is  too  easily  misguided.' 

" '  Ay,'  said  my  father,  with  a  strong  Cavalier 
oath,  'and  woe  to  those  who  misguided  them — the 
quiet  and  sober  Presbyterians  and  Parliamentarians, 
who  made  a  breach  in  the  dykes,  and  now  Avonder 
to  see  the  country  flooded  by  the  ocean.' 

"  Again  Mistress  Dorothy  had  to  lift  up  her 
voice  in  testimony ;  and  in  the  midst  of  it  Roger 
Drayton  entered.  The  three  chief  elements  of  the 
"jivil  war  were  oomprised  in  the  little  English  com- 
pany gathered  in  the  chamber  of  that  Calais  hos- 
telry. 

"  My  father,  sorely  irritated  by  what  he  consid- 
ered Mistress  Dorothy's  Puritanical  cant,  lost  all 
control  of  his  temper.  There  were  high  and  fierce 
words ;  and  bitter  epithets  were  freely  exchanged. 
I  only  remember  that  in  the  end  Mistress  Dorothy, 
ifter  embracing  me  with  many  a  warning  word, 
decided  to  depart  with  Roger,  and  that  through- 
out it  all  Roger  said  not  one  intemperate  or  uncour- 
teous  word,  bitterly  as  my  father  assailed  him  and 
those  whose  honour  was  dear  tc  him  as  his  own. 

"  When  Mistress  Dorothy  and  Roger  had  left, 
my  father,  after  some  rapid  pacings  of  the  room,  and 
some  severe  soliloquising  on  the  state  of  England, 
gradually  become  cooler,  and  then  his  courtesy  re- 
turning he  said, —  4* 


+2  ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

"  '  Ungracious  return  I  have  made  for  their  gen- 
erous kindness  to  you,  Lettice ;  stay,  and  make 
ready  for  the  journey,  while  I  go  and  see  if  I  can  do 
anything  for  that  fiery  old  lady.  It  would  disgrace 
us  if  she  were  not  well-sped  on  her  homeward  way. 
And  I  know  the  outlandish  ways  of  this  place  bettor 
than  they  do.' 

"  I  went  to  the  window,  saw  him  join  them, 
watched  them  cross  the  court,  and  then  sank  down 
in  a  chair  and  hid  my  face  in  my  hands,  and  waa 
weeping  vain  and  hopeless  tears  when  the  door  01 
the  room  opened  gently,  with  the  quiet  words,  in 
Roger's  voice, — 

"  '  My  aunt  left  her  mantle.' 

"  I  rose  and  he  came  to  my  side. 

'"I  had  not  meant  this,  Lettice,'  he  said,  '  yet  you 
need  not  have  fled  without  one  farewell.  Your  con- 
victions are  as  sacred  to  me  as  yourself.' 

" '  I  knew  it,'  I  said,  scarcely  knowing  what  I  said. 
I  was  not  afraid  of  you  but  of  myself.' 

" '  Lettice,'  he  said,  '  it  cannot  be  always  so.  It  is 
impossible  that  such  a  difference  can  separate  us 
forever.  I  must  hope.  If,  as  I  trust,  General  Crom- 
well saves  our  England  and  makes  her  noble  and 
great  as  ever  she  was  before,  say  I  may  hope.' 

"  '  What  can  I  hope  ? '  I  said.  '  Can  I  believe  a 
thing  a  crime,  and  look  forward  to  not  always  so 
believing  it  ?  Right  and  wrong  are  right  and  wrong 
for  ever.' 

"  I  think  I  never  saw  on  his  face  such  a  look  as 
then.  Reverence,  and  honour,  and  love,  and  grief. 
I  shall  never  see  such  a  look  on  any  face  again.  But 
he  only  said  very  softly, — 


ON  BOTH  HIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  43 

"  '  And  love  is  love  for  ever.' 

"There  was  a  faltering  in  his  tone  which  made  it 
like  an  appeal,  and  I  answered, — 

"  <  For  ever ! ' 

"  He  wrung  my  hand  once  and  was  gone. 

"  I  scarcely  know  if  after  all  I  should  not  have 
called  him  back,  but  for  the  memory  of  that  look. 

"  Better  to  be  separated  from  him  all  my  life  than 
to  be  dethroned  from  his  heart  by  one  wavering  or 
unworthy  thought  or  word.  Yet  even  that  dread 
scaffold  seems  sometimes  a  shadowy  ghost  to  part 
love  like  ours.  I  would  (at  times)  it  were  some  plain, 
homely  woman's  duty  that  separated  us  instead. 
Then  there  might  be  heart-breaking,  but  scarcely 
this  heavy  mist  of  perplexity  and  doubt. 

"  I  have  to  say  to  myself  again  and  again,  as  if  the 
words  were  a  spell, — 

"'It  is  not  politics  that  part  us,  but  right  and 
wrong ;  what  my  mother  would  surely  have  deem- 
ed a  monstrous  crime.     And  dare  I  deem  it  less  V  " 


Chapter  it. 


olive's 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


HE  next  morning,  the  31st  January,  the 
nation  awoke  a  Republic.  The  king  had 
died  "  a  traitor  "  (they  said)  "  to  the  na- 
tion ;  "  and  in  the  space  before  his  scaf- 
fold it  had  been  proclaimed,  that  whoever  presumed 
to  call  his  son,  Charles  Stuart,  king,  was  a  traitor 
to  the  Commonwealth.  It  was  a  strange,  dreary 
dawning.  As  I  opened  my  casement  and  looked 
across  the  black  frozen  river  to  London  Bridge, 
with  its  "  Traitor's  Gate  "  and  the  towers  of  South- 
wark  rising  above  from  the  marshy  flats  beyond,  to 
the  one  long  cold  bar  of  brazen  light  which  parted 
the  dark  clouds  on  the  horizon  from  the  heavy  vault 
of  snowclouds  above,  everything  seemed  hard  and 
metallic — the  heavens  "  iron  and  brass,"  the  waters 
steel,  the  earth  and  her  living  creatures  motionless, 
rigid,  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

What  kind  of  a  day  was  this  to  be  ?     The  king 

was  dead ;  though  the  i*emains  of  the  Westminster 

Assembly,  and  many  of  the  Independent  ministers, 

and   well-nigh   all    the   Parliament   had    piotested 

(44) 


ON  jiOTU  SIDES   OF  TBI    SEA.  45 

■gainst  his  execution,  and  well-nigh  all  the  nation 
hew ailed  him.  The  kimj  was  dead.  What  autho- 
rity  had  sentenced  him  ?  and  what  power  was  to 
rule  in  his  place  ?  Half,  at  least,  of  the  nation  look- 
ed on  his  death  as  a  murder — but  there  was  to  be 
no  mourning ;  the  rest,  as  the  terrible  but  victorious 
close  of  a  terrible  conflict — but  there  was  to  be  no 
triumph. 

No  funeral  pomp  was  to  darken  the  streets  that 
day,  as  for  a  king  slain.  No  triumphal  procession 
was  to  make  them  festive,  as  for  an  enemy  vanquish- 
ed. It  was  to  be  a  day  without  mark  or  sign  ;  and 
yet  since  England  was  first  one  nation  surely  such 
a  day  had  never  dawned  on  her.  "  The  first  day  of 
freedom,  by  God's  blessing  restored,"  said  the  Com- 
monwealth coins  ;  the  first  day  of  England's  widow- 
hood, said  the  Royalists,  widowed  and  orphaned  at 
one  blow. 

Yet  there  was  no  disorder,  no  interruption  of 
employment.  The  sounds  of  day  began  to  awake 
in  the  busy  city,  the  cries  of  countrymen  bringing 
their  vegetables  from  the  fields,  the  ringing  of  the 
hammer  on  a  forge  near  our  house,  the  calls  of  the 
bargemen  and  boatmen  locked  in  by  the  ice;  and 
then,  as  the  day  went  on,  all  distinction  of  sound 
lost  in  the  general  hum,  like  the  sound  of  many 
wa'ers,  which  marks  that  a  great  city  is  awake  and 
»t  work. 

Looking  westward,  I  could  see  the  gardener 
sweeping  the  snow  from  the  walks  in  the  gardens 
behind  Whitehall,  as  if  no  terrible  black  scaffold 
had  that  day  tc  be  taken  down  in  front. 


4 6  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

Yet,  I  suppose,  in  well-nigh  every  heart,  man  01 
woman's,  in  London  that  morning,  the  first  conscious 
thought  was,  "  the  king  is  dead  ;  "  all  the  mere  be 
cause  there  were  few  lips  that  would  have  uttered 
the  words. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  to-day,  Leonard  ?  "  I  said, 
when  we  had  breakfasted. 

"  Do  !  dear  heart,"  quoth  he  ;  "  it  is  not  thy  wont 
to  need  thy  day's  tasks  set  thee  by  any." 

"Nay;  but  to-day  seems  like  a  work-day  with 
out  work,  and  a  Sabbath  without  services,"  I  said 

"  There  will  be  a  service,"  he  replied.  "  The  great 
Dr.  Owen  is  to  preach  before  the  Parliament  in  St. 
Margaret's  Church." 

"  The  Parliament !  "  1  said  ;  thinking  pitifully  of 
the  fifty  members  who  still  bore  the  name. 

"  You  scarcely  recognize  the  Rump  as  the  Parlia- 
ment," he  said,  answering  my  tone  rather  than  my 
words. 

"  I  scarce  know  what  to  recognize  or  reverence," 
I  said.  "  I  was  wont  in  the  old  days  at  Netherby 
to  think  I  had  politics  of  my  own,  and  would  have 
belonged  to  the  country  party  by  free  choice,  if  all 
around  me  had  deserted  it.  But  since  our  own 
people  have  split  and  divided  into  so  many  sections, 
I  begin  to  fear,  after  all,  it  was  nought  but  a  young 
maid's  conceit  in  me  to  think  I  had  any  convictions 
of  my  own.  Aunt  Dorothy  and  the  Presbyterians 
think  the  killing  of  the  king  a  great  crime ;  my  fa- 
ther and  the  old  Parliamentarians  think  the  forcible 
purging  of  the  Parliament  a  manifest  tyranny j 
Roger  and  the  army  think  these  things  but  the  ne 


6.V  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  47 

cessary  violence  to  introduce  the  new  reign  of  jus- 
tice and  freedom.  But  I  know  not  what  to  believe, 
or  whom  to  follow.  What  is  to  come  next  ?  Who 
are  to  rule  us  ?  We  must  have  some  to  honour  and 
obey ;  if  not  the  king,  and  if  not  the  Parliament, 
then  whom  ?" 

"  Sweet  heart,"  said  he,  "  if  the  government  of 
the  three  kingdoms  has  been  resting  on  thy  shoul- 
ders, no  wonder  thou  art  cast  down  and  weary. 
But  thou  and  I  are  amons^  the  multitude  who  are 
to  be  governed,  not  among  the  few  who  govern. 
Let  us  be  thankful,  as  good  Mr.  Baxter  saith,  for  any 
government  which  suffers  people  to  be  as  good  as 
they  are  willing  to  be.  And  let  us  be  willing  to  be 
as  good  as  we  can.    That  will  give  us  enough  to  do." 

"But,"  I  said,  "all  these  years  we  have  been 
learning  that  the  country  is  as  a  great  mother  who 
demands  fidelity  from  her  most  insignificant  child ; 
that  Liberty  is  no  mere  empty  name  for  schoolboys 
to  make  orations  about,  and  Law  no  mere  confused 
heap  of  technicalities  for  lawyers  to  disentangle,  but 
simple  sacred  realities  mothers  are  to  teach  their 
children  to  reverence  ;  that  the  glory  and  safety  of 
a  nation  depends  on  their  political  rights  being  sa- 
cred household  words.  We  have  been  taught  to 
look  to  Jewish  and  Roman  matrons  as  our  exam- 
ples. Are  we  to  unlearn  all  this  now,  and  go  back 
to  the  old  saws  we  have  been  taught  to  think  selfish 
and  base ;  that  politics  are  to  be  left  to  rulers,  and 
laws  to  lawyers,  and  our  liberties  and  rights  to 
whoever  will  defend  or  trample  on  them?" 

"  Not  go  back,  1  think,"  he  said  gently,  looking 


4 8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

a  little  surprised  at  my  vehemence;  "  only  g:  deep 
er.  Some  precious  i-ights,  I  believe,  have  beet 
won.  Let  us  use  them.  That  is  the  best  way  to 
secure  them.  We  are  free  to  do  what  good  we  can, 
(o  unloose  what  burdens,  and  to  hear  and  speak 
what  good  words  we  will.  Let  us  use  our  freedom. 
No  one  can  say  how  long  it  may  last.  This  morn- 
ing I  must  go  to  visit  Newgate,  and  other  gaols,  in 
which  there  has  been  much  sickness.  For  although 
the  prisons  are  no  longer  filled  by  the  Star  Chamber, 
or  the  High  Commission,  they  are  unhappily  still 
kept  too  well  supplied  by  a  tyrant  more  ancient 
and  more  universal  than  these.  Moreover,  Olive," 
he  added,  "  there  is  still  one  sect  not  tolerated.  The 
number  of  the  imprisoned  Quakers  is  increasing  ; 
and  in  Newgate  there  is  one  poor  Quaker  maiden 
whom  I  think  thou  mightest  succour.  A  few  days 
since  thou  wert  desiring  a  maiden  to  wait  on  the 
babe.  This  Quaker  maiden  is  a  composed  and  gentle 
creature,  and  with  kind  treatment,  such  as  she 
would  have  from  thee,  might,  I  think,  be  led  into 
ways  which  seem  to  us  more  sober  and  rational." 

My  husband's  words  opened  a  prospect  of  abund- 
ant work  before  me.  Already  we  had  four  wash- 
ing-women of  four  different  unpopular  persuasions. 

And  I  would  have  preferred  choosing  a  nurse  for 
the  babe,  on  account  of  her  qualities  as  a  serving- 
wench,  rather  than  as  a  Confessor.  Moreover,  what 
he  intended  to  be  re-AS3urmg  m  Lis  description, 
alarmed  me  rather  the  more.  ATbr  o^  ah  tanatics,  I 
have  found  gentle  tanatics  tun  mcs.  incorrigible 
and  of  all  wilful  persou*1  ^ho«e  vK.  rx  v<*i  u  4Av«n 


ON  BOTH   S IDA'S    OF  THE  SEA. 


49 


K>se  "  themselves,  or  put  themselves  wrong  by  los- 
ing their  tempers,  are  certainly  the  most  immovable. 
However,  I  repressed  such  selfish  fears  as  quite  un- 
worthy of  Leonard  Antony's  wife.  And,  accord- 
ingly, when  he  returned  from  the  gaol,  I  was  quite 
prepared  to  welcome  the  Quaker.  And  so  I  told 
him  as  we  joined  the  sober  throng  who  were  going 
to  hear  Dr  Owen  preach  at  "  Margaret's  "  before 
the  Parliament. 

A  scanty  Parliament  indeed  !  No  Lords,  and 
about  fifty  Commons  ;  and  among  them  scarce  one 
of  those  whose  words  and  deeds  had  made  its  early 
years  so  strong  and  glorious. 

Hampden  lay  among  his  forefathers  in  the  church 
of  Great  Hampden  ;  Pym  among  the  kings  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  Denzil  Hollis  and  Haselrigge  had 
been  expelled  from  it  ;  old  Mr.  Prynne,  who  had 
been  liberated  by  its  first  act,  had  vehemently  de- 
nounced its  last ;  even  the  young  Sir  Harry  Vane 
had  for  the  time  deserted  its  austere  counsels. 

Nevertheless  the  congregation  was  great  and 
grave.  And  when  Dr.  Owen  spoke,  he  led  our 
thoughts  at  once  to  spheres  compared  with  whose 
sublime  chronology  the  length  of  the  longest  Par- 
liament is  indeed  but  as  a  moment.  He  came  of 
an  ancient  Welsh  ancestry ;  his  bearing  bail  a  courtly 
grace  ;  his  tall  and  stately  figure  had  the  ease  and 
vigor  of  one  used  to  manly  exercises ;  his  voice 
V7as  well-tuned,  as  the  tones  of  one  who  loved 
tuusic  as  he  did  should  be  ;  his  eves  were  dark  and 
keen. 

To  th*1  death  of  the  king  on  that  dreadful  yes- 
5 


50  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  TJK  SEA. 

terday  lie  barely  alluded.  There  was  neither  regret 
nor  triumph  in  his  discourse.  His  exhortations  were 
addressed  not  to  the  vanquished,  but  to  the  victor- 
ious party.  If  he  alluded  at  all  to  the  oppressions 
and  vices  of  the  late  government,  it  was  in  order 
to  conjure  those  now  in  power  not  to  tread  in  their 
steps.  .  Hi*  text  was  :  "  Let  them  return  unto  thee  ; 
but  return  not  thou  unto  them.  And  I  will  make 
thee  uuto  this  people  a  fenced  brazen  wall :  and 
they  shall  fight  against  thee,  but  they  shall  not 
prevail  against  thee  :  for  I  am  with  thee  to  save 
thee  and  to  deliver  thee,  saith  the  Lord." 

God's  judgments,  he  said,  are  a  flaming  sword 
turning  every  way.  Not  in  one  of  these  ways,  but 
in  all,  He  resists  those  who  resist  them.  "  How 
do  we  spend  our  thoughts  to  extricate  ourselves 
from  our  present  pressures  !  If  this  hedge,  this 
pit  were  passed,  we  should  have  smooth  ground  to 
walk  on  ;  not  considering  that  God  can  fill  our 
safest  paths  with  snares  and  serpents.  Give  us 
peace  ;  give  us  wealth  ;  give  us  to  be  as  we  were, 
with  our  own,  in  quietness.  Poor  creatures  !  sup- 
pose all  these  designs  were  in  sincerity;  yet  if 
peace  were,  and  wealth  were,  and  God  wei'e  not, 
what  would  it  avail  you  ?  In  vain  do  you  seek  to 
stop  the  streams  while  the  fountains  are  open  ;  turn 
yourselves  whither  you  will,  bring  yourselves  into 
what  condition  you  c\n,  nothing  but  peace  and  re- 
conciliation with  the  God  of  all  these  judgments 
can  give  you  rest  in  the  day  of  visitation.  You 
see  what  variety  of  plagues  are  in  His  hand. 
Changing   of   condition   will  do   no  more   to  the 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    )F   THE  SEA. 


5» 


Avoiding  of  them,  than  a  nek  man  turning  him- 
self from  one  side  of  the  bed  to  another  ;  during  his 
turning  he  forgets  his  pain  by  striving  to  move  ; 
being  laid  down  again  he  finds  his  condition  the 
same  as  before 

"  It  was  nothing  new,"  he  said,  "  for  the  instru 
ments  of  God's  greatest  works  to  be  the  deepest 
objects  of  a  professing  people's  cursings   and  re- 
filings.    Men  that  under  God  deliver  a  kingdom  may 
have  the  kingdom's  curses  for  their  pains. 

"  Moses  was  rewarded  for  the  deliverance  of 
Israel  from  Korah  by  being  told  '  ye  have  killed 
the  Lord's  people.'  Man's  condemnation  and  God's 
absolution  do  uot  seldom  meet  on  the  same  person 
for  the  same  things.  '  Bonus  vir  Cains  Sejanus,  sed 
mains  quia  Christianas.''  What  precious  men  should 
many  be,  would  they  let  go  the  work  of  God  in 
their  generation ! 

"  Yet  be  tender  towards  fainters  in  difficult  sea- 
sons. God's  righteousness,  His  kindness,  is  like  a 
great  mountain  easy  to  be  seen.  His  judgments 
are  like  a  great  deep.  Who  can  look  into  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea,  or  know  what  is  done  in  the  depths 
thereof?  When  first  the  confederacy  was  entered 
into  by  the  Protestant  princes  against  Charles  V., 
Luther  himself  was  bewildered. 

"  It  is  by  a  small  handful,  a  few  single  persons — 
a  Moses,  a  Samuel,  two  witnesses  —  He  ofttimes 
opposes  the  rage  of  a  hardened  multitude.  His 
judgments  ofttimes  are  the  giving  up  of  a  sinful 
people  to  a  fruitless  contending  with  their  own  de- 
liverers, if  ever  they  be  delivered.     God,  indeed, 


t  ON  BOTH    SIDES   OF   THE  SEA 

cannot  be  the  auth  )r  of  sin,  for  He  can  be  the  author 
of  nothing  but  what  hath  being  in  itself  (for  He 
works  as  the  fountain  of  beings).  This  sin  hath 
not.  It  is  an  aberration.  Man  writes  fair  letters 
upon  a  wet  paper,  and  they  run  all  into  one  blot ; 
not  the  skill  of  the  scribe,  but  the  defect  in  the 
paper,  is  the  cause  of  the  deformity.  The  first 
cause  is  the  proper  cause  of  a  thing's  being;  but 
the  second  of  its  being  evil."  Not,  I  understood 
him  to  mean,  that  sin  is  natural,  but  that  the  facul- 
ties of  nature  are  perverted. 

Then  he  fervently  warned  against  fear  of  man, 
covetousness,  ambition  ;  against  turning  to  "  such 
ways  as  God  hath  blasted  before  our  eyes,  oppres- 
sion, self-seeking,  persecution." 

And  at  the  close  he  said,  "All  you  that  are  the 
Lord's  workmen,  be  always  prepared  for  a  storm. 
Be  prepared.    The  wind  blows  ;  a  storm  may  come." 

Opinions  about  the  sermon  were  various.  On 
the  whole  I  think  it  was  hardly  popular.  Some 
said  it  was  pitiless,  that  the  harshest  of  his  enemies 
would  not  have  grudged  one  generous  word  for  the 
fallen  king.  Others  deemed  it  half-hearted,  and  de- 
clared that  if  John  Knox,  or  one  of  the  mighty 
men  of  old,  had  been  in  the  pulpit,  they  would  have 
made  all  true  hearts  thrill,  ard  all  false  hearts  trem- 
ble at  the  sentence  of  terrible  justice  just  executed. 

"  What  was  thy  mind  about  it,  Olive  ?"  my  hus- 
band asked,  when  he,  and  Roger,  and  I  had  re- 
turned to  the  quiet  of  our  little  garden-parlor. 

"I  thought  Dr.  Owen  very  wise,"  I  said,  "in 
that  he  directed   his   -1isi  ourse  to  those  who  were 


ON  BO  Til  SIDES   OF  Tile!  S3  A.  ,3 

there  to  hear.  I  never  could  see  the  profit  of  de- 
nunciations of  Popery  addressed  to  those  who  hate 
it  enough  already  ;  or  of  arguments  addressed  to 
Arminians  who  are  not  present  to  be  crushed  ;  or 
of  rafting  at  people  who  will  not  come  to  church, 
for  the  edification  of  those  who  do.  It  set  nn 
questioning  myself  whether  God  is  indeed  at  won 
among  us,  and  praying  that  if  He  is,  none  of  u 
may  mistake  His  hand." 

"  May  it  but  have  set  every  heart  on  the  same 
questioning  !"  said  Roger.  "  How  can  any  call 
those  words  of  Dr.  Owen's  an  uncertain  sound  ?" 
he  added.  "  To  me  every  tone  was  as  clear  as  the 
trumpet-signals  before  a  battle.  God  has  sent  you 
deliverance,  has  sent  you  a  deliverer,  he  seemed  to 
me  to  say,  as  Moses  to  Israel  in  bondage,  as  Luther 
to  the  Church  in  bondage.  All  depends  on  whether 
we  acknowledge  him — not,  indeed,  as  to  the  Prom- 
ised Land  being  reached  at  last,  but  everything  as 
to  when  it  is  reached,  everything  as  to  ovr  reach- 
ing it  at  all.  Events  seem  to  me  constantly  saying 
to  ua,  '  If  ye  will  receive,  it,  (his  is  Elias  which  ivas 
for  to  come.''  " 

The  revenges  of  the  Commonwealth  were  few. 
Three  Royalist  noblemen  beheaded  without  torture 
or  insult  in  Palace  Yard.  As  far  as  Oliver  Crom- 
well's rule  extended  there  was  not  one  barbarous 
execution.  Baiting  was  not  a  sport  he  encouraged, 
whether  of  bulls  and  bears  or  of  men. 

During  the  ten  years  of  the  Common  wealth,  the 
pillory,  the  whipping-post,  the  torture-chamber,  ^ver« 
6* 


u 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


seaicely  once  used,  and  not  one  Englishman  suffered 
the  savage  punishment  awarded  to  traitors. 

It  was  difficult  to  see  what  most  men  had  to  com- 
plain of.  Good  men  of  every  party  but  one,  the 
Royalist  Episcopal,  were  encouraged. 

Nevertheless,  from  every  party  rose  murmurs  of 
discontent.  Before  the  king  had  been  executed 
four  months,  General  Cromwell  had  to  subdue 
opposition  in  the  Parliament,  the  city,  among  the 
peasantry,  in  the  army  itself. 

Roger  grieved  sorely  at  what  he  deemed  the 
blindness  of  the  people. 

Mr.  Baxter  preached  and  wrote  against  Genera. 
Cromwell  and  his  measures,  at  Kidderminster,  to 
Aunt  Dorothy's  heart's  content,  propounding  twenty 
unanswerable  queries  to  show  why  none  should  tak« 
the  "  Engagement  to  the  Commonwealth  now  estab- 
lished without  King  or  Lords,"  and  having  in  re- 
serve twenty  other  queries  equally  unanswerable. 

Colonel  Hutchinson,  the  Republican,  forbore  not 
to  exhort  and  rebuke  him,  seeing,  as  Mistress  Lucy, 
his  stately  wife,  said,  how  "  ambition  had  ulcerated 
his  heart." 

Colonel  Rich,  Commissary  Staines,  and  Watson, 
made  a  design  on  his  life.  The  Council  would  have 
punished,  but  the  General  pardoned  them.  Men  in 
general  were  indeed  moved  by  such  generosity. 
But  it  could  not  "  blind  "  the  penetrating  eyes  of 
Mistress  Lucy  Hutchinson,  or  of  Mr.  Baxter.  If 
Oliver  did  magnanimous  deeds  in  public,  it  was  "to 
court  popularity ;"  if  little  kindly  acts  in  private, 
it  was  "to  cajole  •sveak  members."      If  his  plans 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  55 

succeeded,  it  was  a  "  favor  of  fortune."  If  his  enti- 
mies  were  vanquished,  it  was  because  they  were 
"slaves  or  puppets,"  whom  lie,  with  marvelous 
prescience,  had  "  tempted  to  oppose  him  for  the 
easy  glory  of  knocking  them  down."  If  he  pleaded 
with  almost  a  tearful  tenderness  against  the  cold- 
ness cf  old  friends,  it  was  "  dissimulation  ;"  if  he 
"sought  to  approve  himself  to  good  men,  it  was 
"  because  his  own  conscience  was  uneasy."  If  he 
disregarded  their  opinions,  it  was  because  he  was 
"  inflated  with  pride,  or  hardened  to  destruction." 

Yet  Roger  thought  much  of  this  misapprehension 
would  pass  away.  It  was,  he  hoped,  but  the  dim- 
ness natural  to  the  twilight  of  this  new  dawn. 

The  greatest  dangers  to  the  new  liberty,  he 
thought,  were  from  the  hopes  which  it  had  created. 

The  first  time  this  danger  opened  on  me  was  from 
a  conversation  between  Job  Forster  and  Annis 
Nye. 

The  gentle  Quaker  maiden  had  been  installed  for 
some  weeks  as  the  nurse  of  baby  Magdalene,  who 
seemed  to  find  a  soothing  spell  in  her  still  serene 
face,  and  quiet  even  voice. 

As  yet,  no  unusual  or  alarming  symptoms  had 
appeared  in  Annis,  nothing  to  indicate  her  being 
capable  of  the  offence  for  which  it  was  said  she  had 
been  cast  into  prison,  which  was  that,  one  Sunday, 
she  had  confronted  a  well-known  Presbyterian  min- 
ister in  his  pulpit,  at  the  conclusion  of  a  sermon 
against  "  the  Papal  and  Prelatical  Antichrist  "  and 
in  a  calm  and  deliberate  voice  had  denounced  him 
in  face  of  the  indignant  congregation  as  himself  u 


5 6  OS  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

"  false  priest,"  "  hireling  shepherd,"  and  "  minister 
of  Antichrist." 

Yet  there  was  something  in  her  different  from 
any  one  I  had  yet  seen.  Yon  could  by  no  megns 
be  always  sure  of  her  responding  to  converse  on 
good  things  ;  but  when  she  did,  it  was  like  some 
one  listening  to  a  far-off  heavenly  voice  and  echoing 
it,  aLd  very  beautiful  often  were  the  things  she 
said. 

Her  neglect  of  ordinary  gestures  and  titles  of  re- 
spect seemed  in  no  way  disrespectful  in  her.  "  Olive 
Antony"  and  "Leonard  Antony"  from  her  soft  voice 
had  more  honour  in  them  than  titles  at  every  breath 
from  ordinary  people,  and  when  she  called  us  "  thou" 
and  "  thee,"  even  the  bad  grammar  which  accompa- 
nied the  custom  had  a  kind  of  quaint  grace  from 
her  lips.  If  asked  her  reasons  for  these  customs 
she  gave  them.  These  customs  were  false,  she  said ; 
a  hollow  compliance  with  the  hollow  world.  The 
honour  was  rendered  universally,  and  therefore  in- 
sincerely ;  and  to  call  a  single  person  "  you"  was  an 
untruth  which  "  led  to  great  depravation  of  man- 
rers."  Having  given  these  reasons,  she  never  de- 
bated  the  point  further;  they  satisfied  her;  if  they 
did  not  satisfy  you,  she  could  not  help  it. 

Occasionally  there  was  inconvenience  arising  from 
the  difficulty  of  knowing  when  any  command  might 
cross  the  non-observances  she  held  sacred.  Never- 
theless, her  presence  had  a  kind  of  hallowing  calm 
in  it  which  compensated  for  much. 

My  husband  had  sympathy  with  her  sect  on  ac- 
count of  their  large  thoughts  of  the  love  of  God  to 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


57 


mankind.  And  he  said  we  ought  to  wait  to  pee 
what  portion  of  divine  truth  or  church  history  it 
had  been  given  to  the  Quakers  to  unfold,  he  shaving 
Mr.  Milton's  belief,  that  truth  is  found  on  earth  but 
in  fragments  either  in  the  world  or  the  church.  So, 
f<r  the  sake  of  ray  husband,  and  the  free  develop- 
ment of  church  history,  and  a  growing  love  to  the 
maid,  I  continued  to  accept  from  Annis  such  services 
as  her  conscience  permitted,  and  to  make  up  the 
deficiencies  myself. 

Job  Forster,  who,  for  Rachel's  sake,  had  much 
reverence  for  feminine  judgment,  had  frequent  con- 
verse with  Annis  when  he  came  to  solace  himself 
w:th  our  little  Magdalene.  For  between  him  and 
the  babe  there  was  the  fullest  confidence  and  love, 
the  little  one  never  seeming  more  at  home  than  in 
his  brawny  arms. 

Job  thought  Annis  "a  woman  of  an  understand- 
ing heart,"  and  had  hopes  of  reclaiming  her  from 
the  error  of  her  way.  He  did  not  for  a  long  time 
discover  that  Annis  was  the  most  patient  of  listen- 
ers to  his  arguments  simply  as  the  Cornish  cliffs  are 
patient  with  the  beat  of  the  waves  ;  and  that  when 
she  "  dealt  softly"  with  him,  it  was  not  because  she 
was  convinced  by  his  reasoning,  but  because  she 
compassionated  his  blindness. 

Tt  was,  therefore,  with  some  surprise  that  I  found 
ibim  one  April  evening  in  1049  listening  with  indig- 
nant gesticulations  to  Annis,  as  she  stood,  with 
clasped  hands  and  eyes  looking  dreamily  forward, 
repeating  in  a  low  monotonous  voice,  like  a  chant, 
the  words,-  - 


$8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

"Woe  unto  those  that  build  with  untemptted 
mortar  !  Woe  unto  those  that  would  build  the  tern 
pie  of  the  Lord  with  the  dust  of  the  battle-field ! 
Woe  to  those  who  run  to  and  fro  and  cry,  Lo  here ! 
and  Lo  there !  The  kingdom  of  God  eometh  not 
with  observation,  not  with  observation.  The  king' 
dom  of  God  is  within  you,  within  you,  within  !" 

Her  voice  died  away  into  a  sigh,  and  I  confess  it 
moved  me  not  a  little. 

But  Job,  on  whom  the  words  came  in  the  heat  of 
debate,  was  by  no  means  calmed  thereby. 

"  It  is  no  fair  fight,  Mistress  Olive,"  he  said,  ap- 
pealing to  me  ;  "  she  does  not  know  when  she  is 
beaten.  Only  yesterday,  she  quite  gave  in,  and  had 
never  a  word  to  say,  and  to  day  it's  all  to  be  begun 
over  again.  It's  them  poor  honest  fellows  down  in 
Surrey  she  means,  and  it's  a  sin  to  cast  up  all  those 
Bible  texts  at  them  as  if  they  were  blinded  persecu- 
tors, instead  of  poor  true  men  striving  to  hasten  the 
coming  of  the  Kingdom.  Mistress  Annis,"  he  con- 
cluded, for  there  was  something  in  her  which  com- 
pelled from  others  the  titles  she  refused  to  any,  "  did 
I  not  give  you  chapter  and  verse  until  you  had  never 
&  word  to  gainsay?  Is  it  not  written  so  plain,  that 
he  who  runs  may  read,  that  the  Jews  are  to  go  in 
and  possess  the  land,  and  did  I  not  show  thee  tl  at 
the  Saxons  are  the  lost  tribes,  the  descendants  of 
the  Jews  ?" 

But  Annis  had  meekly  resumed  her  knitting,  and 
Bimply  said, — 

"  A  concern  was  upon  my  spirit  regarding  thee. 
'  have  spoken ;  the  rest  belongs  not  to  me.     There 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  jg 

is  the  Power  and  the  Anointing.     But  these  are  not 
with  me/'     And  she  relapsed  into  silence. 

"  That  is  her  way,  Mistress  Olive,"  exclaimed  Job, 
much  ruffled.  "You  shall  be  judge  if  any  rational 
discourse  can  proceed  on  such  principles.  You 
bring  forth  Scripture  enough  to  silence  a  council  of 
rabbis — to  sav  nothing  of  reasons.  She  listens  as 
patient  as  a  lamb,  has  not  a  word  to  answer — and 
this  is  the  end." 

Annis  made  no  defence,  she  only  said, — 

"  I  had  hopes,  Job  Forster,  thee  had  been  reached. 
But  it  seemeth  otherwise." 

For  if  Annis  heeded  not  the  arguments  of  others, 
neither  did  she  rely  on  her  own.  Her  confidence 
was  not  on  the  powTer  of  her  words,  but  on  the 
Power  in  and  with  them.  But  this  Job  did  not 
perceive. 

"Reached!"  he  exclaimed,  looking  hopelessly  at 
me.  "  She  speaks  of  me  as  if  I  were  a  babe  in  swad- 
dling-clothes ;  and  I  old  enough  to  be  her  grand- 
father." 

"  What  was  the  matter  in  debate  ?"  I  asked. 

"  There  was  no  debate !  said  Job,  still  agitated. 
"  Debates  are  only  possible  with  people  who  are 
amenable  to  Scripture  and  reason.  I  was  but  speak- 
ing of  the  peasants  at  St.  Margaret's  Hill  in  Surrey, 
and  the  great  work  they  are  beginning  there." 

"  What  great  work  ?  Is  there  some  great  preacher 
risen  among  them  ?"  I  asked,  thinking  he  meant 
some  great  work  of  conversion. 

i;  There  is  a  prophet  among  them,  mistress,"  said 
Jub  solemnly,  "by  name  Everard, once  in  the  army, 


60  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

The  work  may  seem  small  to  the  eye  of  flesh.  A. 
yet  they  are  but  thirty.  But  the  Apostles  were  but, 
twelve.     And  soon  they  may  be  thousands." 

"  But  what  is  the  work  ?"  I  said. 

"  Simple  work  enough,"  he  replied  mysteriously. 
"  They  began  with  digging  the  ground,  and  sowing 
beans  therein." 

"Surely  none  will  gainsay  them,"  I  said,  "if  it  is 
their  own  ground  they  are  digging.  But  what  is 
to  come  of  beans  except  the  bean-stalks  ?" 

"  It  is  not  exactly  their  own  ground,"  Job  replied; 
"  it  is  common-ground.  And  they  invite  all  men 
to  come  and  help  them  to  make  the  barren  land 
fruitful,  and  to  restore  the  ancient  community  of 
the  fruits  of  the  earth,  to  distribute  to  the  poor  and 
needy,  and  to  clothe  the  naked.  Gospel  words, 
Mistress  Olive,  and  gospel  deeds,  let  the  Justices 
say  what  they  may." 

"The  Justices  interfered,  then?"  T  said. 

"Doubtless,"  he  replied.  "Justices  do,  in  all  the 
books  of  the  martyrs  I  ever  read.  Justices  are  a 
etiff-necked  race." 

"  And  so  it  ended  ?"  I  said. 

"  So  it  began,  Mistress  Olive,"  Job  replied  myste- 
riously. "  The  country-people  also  were  blinded, 
and  two  troops  of  horse  were  sent  against  them. 
They  were  brought  before  General  Fairfax.  Master 
Everard  spoke  up  to  him  like  a  lion,  and  told  him 
how  the  Saxon  people  were  of  the  race  of  the  Jews, 
how  all  the  liberties  of  the  people  were  lost  by  the 
coming  of  William  the  Conqueror,  and  how,  ever 
since,  the  people  of  God  had  lived  under  tyranny 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  (,\ 

worse  than  their  forefathers  in  Egypt.  But  that 
now  the  time  of  deliverance  was  come,  and  there 
had  appeared  to  him  a  vision,  saying,  Arise,  dig  and 
plough  ihe  earth,  and  receive  the  fruits  thereof,  and 
restore  the  creation  to  its  state  before  the  curse." 

"What  does  General  Cromwell  say?"  I  asked. 

"  He  has  not  yet  got  the  light,"  replied  Job. 
"  But  his  eyes  will  be  opened,  for  he  is  of  them 
that  sigh  and  cry  for  the  iniquities  of  the  land.  The 
light  must  be  flashed  a  little  stronger  in  his  face, 
and  Le  will  sec." 

"Bat  the  General  is  taking  away  oppression  ;  he 
bas  destroyed  slavery,"  I  said.  "  And  there  are  so 
man}  curses,  Job,  besides  the  thistles  and  thorns. 
Yet  even  our  Lord  took  them  not  away.  How  can 
:hese  thirty  countrymen  hope  to  do  it  by  sowing 
beans  in  the  Surrey  commons  ?  Our  Lord  did  not 
take  hard  things  away.  He  changed  them  into 
blessings.  The  sweat  of  the  brow,  the  thistles  and 
all ;  even  death." 

"  That  is  what  I  was  trying  to  explain  to  Mistress 
Annis,"  replied  Job.  "There  are  the  Two  King- 
doms. One  Cometh  not  with  observation  ;  the  other 
cometh  like  the  lightning;  which  liyditeneth  from  one 
end  of  heaven  to  the  other." 

"  But  I  do  not  seee  how  digging  up  the  Surrey 
Band-hills  is  like  either,"  1  said. 

"  No,"  said  Job,  shaking  his  head  pitifully  ;  "  I 
daresay  not,  Mistress  Olive.  Others  must  do  their 
part  of  the  work  first.  There  are  the  '  men  as  trees 
walking,'  and  there  is  the  '  shining  more  and  more.' 
But  I  did  think  Mi  -tress  Annis  would  have  had  im 
6 


62  ON  1)0  Th    SIDES   OF   Til  A   SEA. 


derstandinsr.  For  these  country  folk  were  like  to 
those  she  calls  Friends.  They  would  not  take  arms 
to  defend  themselves  against  the  powers  that  be, 
but  would  wait  and  submit*  And  when  asked  why 
they  did  not  take  off  their  hats  to  General  Fairfax, 
they  said,  Because  he  was  their  fellow-creature." 

But  not  even  this  orthodoxy  as  to  "hat-honour" 
moved  Annis. 

"Not  with  observation,"  she  said;  "not  in  bean 
fields,  nor  battle-fields,  nor  in  king's  palaces.  Within 
you — within  !  " 

Job  rose,  and  gently  laying  little  Magdalene  in 
my  arms,  took  his  hat,  and  went  away  without  fur- 
ther farewell. 

"She  will  not  see  the  Two  Kingdoms,"  he  inur- 
mured.  "  This  generation  will  have  to  be  roused 
by  louder  voices.  The  foxes  must  be  hunted  with 
beagles  of  other  make.  Those  who  will  not  wake 
at  the  lark's  singing  will  be  startled  when  the  trum- 
pet peals.  Five  Monarchies,"  he  added,  turning  to 
us  from  the  threshold  ;  "Two  Kingdoms  and  Five 
Monarchies.  Four  have  been,  and  are  not.  One  is 
yet  to  come  ;  cut  out  of  the  mountain  without  hands 
— to  crash  the  remnants  of  the  four  and  fill  the 
world.  Take  heed  that  ye  fail  not  of  the  signs  of 
its  coming." 

Job's  words  made  me  uneasy.  They  seemed  to 
betray  a  subterranean  fire  of  wild  hopes,  and  wild 
distrusts,  and  tumultuous  purposes,  which  might 
burst  up  beneath  our  feet  any  day  anywhere  ic  a 
volcano  of  wilder  deeds. 

"  What  does  Job  mean,"  T  said  to  my  husVaud 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  6j 

afterwards,  "  by  his  Fifth.  Monarchy  and  his  King 
dom  coming  like  the  lightning,  and  his  '  beagles  to 
hunt  foxes'?" 

"He  means  precisely  what  is  endangering  the 
Commonwealth  most  of  all  at  this  moment,"  my 
husband  said.  "  So  many  evils  have  been  removed, 
that  san inline  men  think  it  is  nothing  but  faint- 
heartedness  in  the  leaders  which  suffers  any  to  re- 
main. Now  that  the  Star  Chamber  and  the  persecu- 
tions are  suppressed,  they  seem  to  think  it  is  only 
Cromwell's  half-heartedness  that  prevents  the  devil 
being  suppressed  also,  instantly,  with  all  his  works. 
Kow  that  fines  and  persecutions  are  swept  away, 
and  the  laws  which  sanctioned  them,  and  the  men 
who  made  the  laws,  what,  they  think,  is  to  hinder 
poverty  being  swept  away,  and  unaccountable  in- 
equalities of  station,  and  avarice,  and  luxury, 
and  waste,  and  want,  and  all  the  old  tangle  of 
too  much  toil  for  some  and  too  much  idleness  for 
others  ?  But  we  must  see  after  this.  There  are 
mischief-makers  abroad.  '  Free-born  John  Lilburn  ' 
is  scattering  fire-brands  from  his  prison  in  the 
Tower,  about  England's  '  new  chains ; '  a\  1  we  must 
not  suffer  Job  Forster  to  be  among  his  victims.  To- 
morrow we  will  tell  Roger  of  the  danger,  that  he 
may  counsel  Job." 

But  on  the  morrow  it  Avas  too  late.  In  the  night 
(the  23th  of  April)  there  was  much  stir  in  the  city  ; 
sudden  sharp  alarms  of  trumpet  and  drum,  and 
galloping  to  and  fro  of  horsemen,  not  on  parade. 

A  troop  of  Whalley's  regiment,  quartered  at  the 
Bull   Inn,  Bishopsgate    mutinied;   why,  it  was  not 


64.  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA 

clear,  but  with  some  vague  intention  of  bringing  ii. 
swiftly  the  thousand  years  of  liberty  and  universal 
happiness. 

General  Cromwell  and  Lord  Fairfax  extinguished 
the  fire  for  the  time.  Five  ringleaders  were  seized 
and  condemned,  and  out  of  them  one,  Sergeant 
Lockyer,  was  shot  the  next  day  in  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard. 

They  were  practical  times.  It  mattered  very  much 
what  people'^  opinions  were  about  prophecy,  when 
they  expressed  them  by  insurrections  and  mutinies. 

But,  naturally,  executions  did  not  alter  the  con- 
victions of  the  people  who  believed  the  prophets. 

Of  all  the  assemblies  the  old  church  and  the 
houses  round  the  churchyard  had  witnessed,  I  think 
there  had  scarce  been  a  sadder  than  when  young 
Trooper  Lockyer  was  led  out  there  to  die.  No 
crime  was  laid  to  his  charge,  but  this  unpardonable 
military  crime  of  mutiny.  He  was  but  twenty- 
three.  At  sixteen  he  had  joined  the  army  of  free- 
dom, and  had  fought  bravely  in  it  seven  years. 
Blameless  and  brave,  all  the  fervour  of  his  early 
manhood  had  burnt  pure  in  aspirations  for  a  King- 
dom of  God  on  earth,  a  free  and  holy  nation,  where 
the  poor  and  needy  should  be  judged  and  saved, 
and  deceit  and  violence  should  cease,  and  the  op- 
pressor should  be  broken  in  pieces.  And  thousands 
with  him  had  prayed  for  it  by  the  camp  fires  at 
night,  and  had  fought  for  it  on  many  battle-fields 
by  day  for  seven  years.  And  the  poor  and  needy 
had  been  saved,  and  deceit  and  violence  avenged, 
and  many  oppressors  broken  in  pieces.     The  Bible 


ON  BOTH   SIDES  OF   THE  SEA.  65 

had  promised  it,  and  with  prayers  jand  strong  right 
arms  they,  the  army  of  freedom,  had  done  it.  But 
the  Bible  promised  more.  One  set  of  workers  after 
another  had  been  set  aside,  they  thought,  "  as  doing 
the  work  of  the  Lord  deceitfully."  They  were  pro- 
pared  to  do  it  thoroughly — to  pray  and  fight  on  till 
every  wrong  in  England  was  redressed,  and  every 
chain,  new  and  old,  was  broken,  till  every  valley 
should  be  exalted,  and  every  mountain  and  hill 
should  be  laid  low,  when  avarice  with  its  base  hoards 
of  gold,  and  ambition  with  its  lordly  palaces,  should 
vanish,  and  every  home  in  England  should  be  a 
home  of  plenty  and  of  well-rewarded  toil ;  the 
praises  of  God  going  up  from  every  holy  city  and 
happy  hill-side  through  the  land,  till  the  whole  earth 
stopped  to  listen,  and  the  thousand  years  of  the 
better  Eden  began. 

And  for  hopes  such  as  these  young  Trooper  Lock- 
yer  was  led  out  to  die ;  for  carrying  out  a  little  too 
swiftly  what  all  Christian  men  hoped  to  see;  for 
"  doing  the  Lord's  work,"  "  not  deceitfully,"  but  too 
hastily,  at  the  wrong  time,  and  not  altogether  in 
the  right  way. 

There  was  nothing  new  to  him  in  facing  death. 
Ele  stood  to  receive  the  fatal  volley;  and  when  he 
fell,  the  great  crowd  of  men  and  women  broke  into 
bitter  weeping  and  bewailed  him. 

That  Saturday  and  Sunday  were  sad  days  in  the 
city.  There  was  a  sense  of  hushed  murmurs  and 
tears  all  around  us  among  the  people.  We  knew 
the  corpse  was  being  solemnly  watched  night  and 
day  with  J  ravers  weeping  in  the  city.  The  death 
6* 


66  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE   SEA. 

of  the  king,  alone  and  gray-haired,  had  smitten  the 
people  with  awe  ;  the  execution  of  this  brave  young 
soldier  touched  them  with  a  passionate  reverence 
and  pity. 

Nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  Job  during  those  days. 
Roger  had  seen  him  once ;  but  he  looked  gloomy, 
and  would  be  drawn  into  no  discourse.  He  was 
among  the  watchers  over  the  dead,  nursing  wild 
hopes  of  the  Fifth  Kingdom,  and  bitter  distrusts  of 
those  who  hindered  its  coming. 

On  Monday  the  feeling  of  the  people  manifested 
tself  in  a  solemn  procession  passing  through  the 
city  to  Westminster. 

Ceremonial,  funereal  or  festive,  was  so  foreign  to 
our  Puritan  people,  that  the  few  occasions  on  which 
the  irrepressible  feeling  burst  forth  into  such  mani- 
festation had  a  terrible  reality. 

A  soldier's  funeral  is  heart-stirring  enough  at  any 
time;  but  to  me,  scarce  any  procession,  before  or 
since,  seemed  so  moving  as  this  which  bore  Trooper 
Lockyer  to  his  grave  in  Westminster  Churchyard. 

There  were  none  of  the  rich  or  great  among;  them. 
First,  a  hundred  men,  five  or  six  in  file.  Then  the 
corpse  of  the  poor  brave  youth,  with  the  sword  he 
had  long  used  so  well,  stained  now  with  blood,  and 
beside  it  bundles  of  rosemary,  also  dipped  in  blood. 
Then  the  horse  he  had  ridden  to  many  battle-fields, 
moving  uneasily  under  his  heavy  mourning  dra- 
peries, and  beside  it  six  men  pealing  on  six  trum- 
pets the  soldier's  knell.  Behind,  thousands  of  men, 
marching;  slow  and  silent  in  order  like  soldiers. 
And  after  all  a  crowd  of  mourning  women  ;  all,  meo 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE   SEA.  67 

and  women,  with  bunches  of  black  or  sea-green  rib- 
bon on  their  hats  and  breasts. 

At  Westminster  they  were  met  by  thousands 
more,  "  of  the  better  sort,"  it  was  said.  And  so 
the  young  man  died,  for  trying  to  fulfil  men's  besi 
hopes  at  a  wrong  time  and  in  a  impracticable  way, 
and  was  buried,  not  without  honour. 

The  crime  was  not  one  which  moved  men  to  ven- 
geance. The  doom  was  one  which  moved  men 
much  to  pity. 

So  the  fire  went  on  spreading  in  the  army.  On 
May  the  9th,  the  mutinous  sea-green  ribbons  ap- 
peared among  the  soldiers  at  a  review  in  Hyde  Park. 

General  Cromwell  with  one  of  those  speeches  of 
his  which  critical  gentlemen  pronounced  so  con- 
fused, but  which  those  to  whom  they  were  addressed 
found  so  plain,  made  the  men  in  general  understand 
that  to  be  a  soldier  meant  to  obey  commands.  If 
they  declined  to  obey,  they  should  receive  arrears 
of  pay  and  be  dismissed.  If  they  decided  still  to 
be  soldiers,  they  must  obey,  or  suffer  the  penalties 
of  martial  law,  under  which  they  had  put  them- 
selves. 

I  suppose  his  words  told,  as  usual,  for  the  sea- 
green  ribbons  disappeared,  and  no  further  mutiny 
followed  in  London. 

Meantime  Mr.  John  Lilburn,  for  whom  General 
Cromwell  had  once  pleaded  with  so  vehement  a 
passion  when  he  was  Mr.  Prynne's  servant  in  dan- 
ger of  the  pillory  and  the  whipping-posts,  continued 
to  disperse  his  incendiary  pamphlets  from  the  cell 
to  which  he   had  been   committed   in   the  Tower. 


OS  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

And  at  length  the  news  came  that  the  conflagration 
bad  burst  out  in  the  army  in  three  piaces  at  once, 
two  hundred  mutineers  at  Banbury,  at  Salisbury  a 
thousand,  in  Gloucestershire  more. 

Job  Forster.  had  gone  westward  within  those 
weeks  with  scarce  a  word  of  farewell  to  any.  With 
a  grave  and  glooming  countenance,  and  avoiding  all 
discourse.  We  feared  sorely  to  hear  that  he  was 
among  the  mutineers. 

On  Sunday,  May  the  14th,  Roger  called  to  bid  us 
farewell,  ready  booted  and  spurred  to  ride  off  with 
Fairfax  and  Cromwell  and  their  troops  for  Salis- 
bury, to  quell  the  mutiny  there. 

It  was  an  uneasy  Sabbath  for  us  who  were  left 
behind.  John  Lilburn  was  in  the  Tower,  and  some- 
where around  the  Tower  were  dwelling  the  thou- 
sands of  grave  and  determined  men  who  had  borne 
Trooper  Lockyer  to  his  grave  scarce  a  fortnight 
before.  And  the  only  voice  which  seemed  able  to 
command  the  stormy  waves  was  out  of  hearing, 
heartening  his  men  on  their  rapid  march  through 
Hampshire  towards  Buckinghamshire,  Berkshire. 
Oxfordshire;  as  they  tracked  the  mutineers  north- 
ward till  they  came  on  them  at  midnight  taking 
uneasy  rest  at  Burford. 

But  London  remained  quiet,  to  all  outward  seem- 
ing. Whatever  vows  were  being  made  in  homes 
where  tli3  "  Eikon  Basilike  "  was  being  read  secretly, 
with  a  passionate  devotion,  together  with  the  pro- 
scribed liturgy,  the  hopes  cherished  were  of  a 
•'blessed  restoration"  and  "  vengeance  on  bloody 
usurpers  ;"   or,  on  the  other  hand,  in  homes  where 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  69 

Tree  per  Lockyer  was  the  martyr,  and  the  hopes 
were  of  a  speedy  millennium  with  vengeance  on  all 
who  hindered  it, — they  did  not  disturb  the  quiet  of 
that  Sabbath.  Leonard  and  I  wen*  to  the  morning 
exercise  in  "  Margaret's,"  and  the  preaching  in  the 
abbey,  and  Annis  to  her  obscure  meeting  of  Friends, 
And  little  Magdalene  welcomed  us  back  with  crow- 
ings  "  significant "  (we  thought,  as  my  Diary  re- 
cords), "  of  a  remarkable  vivacity  of  intelligence." 
And  as  in  the  evening  we  looked  on  the  Lent-lilies 
and  primroses  Aunt  Gretel  had  sent  from  Netherby, 
making  the  little  garden  behind  the  house  iaintly  re- 
present the  woods  and  fields,  it  seemed  to  ud  that  the 
city  had  even  more  than  its  usual  Sabbath  stillness, 
while  we  listened  to  the  evening  family  psalm  ris- 
ing from  the  open  lattices  of  many  houses  around  us. 

Yet  all  through  that  Sabbath-day  those  who  were 
keeping  the  peace  with  their  good  swords  for  us, 
were  chasing  the  mutineers  from  county  to  county 
and  from  town  to  town,  making  meanwhile  such 
Sabbath  melodies  in  their  hearts  as  best  they  might. 

The  story  of  the  pursuit  I  heard  afterwards  from 
Job.     All  through  the  Monday  the  chase  went  on. 

"  We  thought  to  cross  into  Oxfordshire  at  New- 
bridge, and  join  our  fellows  at  Banbury,"  said  Job. 
"  But  they  had  been  before  us  ?  the  bridge  was 
guarded.  We  had  to  double  and  swim  the  river. 
Bv  this  time  it  grew  dusk,  and  when  we  reached 
the  little  town  of  Burford  on  Monday  evening  it 
grew  dark.  At  the  entrance  of  the  street  we  made 
&  halt.  Little  welcome  had  we  found  at  town  or 
village.     Tie  name  of  him  wdio  was  chasing  us  had 


/o 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OP   THE  SEA. 


been  our  shield  and  boast  too  long  not  to  weight 
against  us  now. 

"  For  the  first  time  these  two  days  since  first  they 
came  nigh  us,  we  missed  the  tramp  of  the  horse  in 
pursuit.  Some  of  us  hoped  they  were  oil*  the  scent. 
Others  knew  better  than  to  think  the  General  was 
to  be  baflled  so.  We  knew  his  ways  too  well.  But 
be  that  as  it  might  we  were  fain  to  stay.  The 
horses  stumbled  and  would  not  be  spurred  further. 
We  had  to  cross  fifty  miles  of  country  that  day,  to 
say  nothing  of  doublings.  We  turned  the  poor 
brutes  out  to  grass  in  the  meadows  by  the  river, 
and,  wet  and  weary  as  we  were,  turned  in  to  get 
such  sleep  as  we  might. 

"  Running  away  is  work  that  breaks  the  heart 
of  man  and  beast,  and  Oliver  had  not  used  us  to  it. 

"  But  as  midnight  boomed  out  from  the  tall  old 
steeple,  we  found  what  the  silence  of  the  pursuers 
had  meant. 

"  They  had  been  lying  quiet  in  ambush  outside 
the  town.  On  they  came,  clattering  into  the  nar- 
row streets,  with  the  eld  cries  we  had  joined  in 
with  them  so  long.  It  was  enough  to  make  any 
man's  heart  ftul  to  have  to  go  against  the  old  watch- 
words, to  which  we  had  charged  and  rallied  scores 
of  times  together.  But  worse  than  all  was  Oliver's 
voice.  Few  of  us  could  stand  that.  It  had  been 
more  than  a  thousand  trumpets  to  us  for  years.  A 
kw  desperate  shots  were  fired,  and  all  was  over. 
We  were  caught  and  clapped  up  together  to  await 
the  sentence.  We  went  to  sleep  thinking  we  might 
yet  be  the  Lord's  handful  to  bring  in  the  Millen 


ON  BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  yt 

iiium.  We  woke  up  and  found  we  were  nothing 
better  than  a  lot  of  traitorous  mutineers. 

"  Two  days  of  waiting  followed,  and  they  fin- 
ished the  work  for  most  of  us.  Some,  still  braved 
it  out,  and  talked  of  martyrdom,  and  of  paving  the 
way  to  the  Kingdom  with  our  corpses.  But  the 
greater  part  were  downcast  anil  heart-stricken,  and 
in  sore  bewilderment  of  soul.  We  minded  Oliver's 
prayers  before  so  many  battles,  and  the  cheer  of  his 
voice  in  the  fight,  and  his  thanksgivings  afterwards; 
and  how  he  had  praised  the  Lord  and  praised  us, 
and  made  as  though  he  owed  all  to  us,  while  we 
felt  we  owed  all  under  God  to  him.  We  minded 
how  he  had  never  thought  it  beneath  him  to  write 
up  to  Parliament  to  claim  reward  for  any  faithful 
service  of  any  among  us,  and  had  never  claimed 
honor  or  reward  for  himself.  More  than  one  among 
us  minded  how  a  glance  from  his  eye  singled  us 
out,  and  had  made  our  hearts  swell  like  a  public 
triumph,  though  not  a  soul  saw  it  besides  ;  how  it 
had  been  enough  reward  for  any  toil  to  know  that 
the  General  knew  we  had  done  our  best.  All  of 
us  had  heard  his  cheery  voice  joining  in  joke  and 
laugh,  and  more  than  one  had  heard  it  in  low  tones 
beside  the  dying,  breathing  words  which  could 
make  a  man  brave  to  face  the  last  enemy  of  all. 

"  And  now  his  eyes  nad  rested  on  us  in  grave 
displeasure,  and  grieved  disappointment.  He  had 
thought  we  knew  him,  his  sorrowful  eyes  had  said; 
he  had  thought  we  could  have  trusted  him  to  do 
the  good  work,  and  would  have  helped  him  in  it. 

"The  Royalists  hated  him,  good  Mr.  Baxter  am 


■j%  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

tlie  Presbyterians  distrusted  him,  but  he  had  thought 
wo  knew  him ! 

"  And  so  we  did  !  And  before  those  two  days  were 
over,  there  were  many  among  us  who  would  have 
ashed  no  better  from  him  or  from  Heaven  than 
that  we  miiiht  have  one  chance  of  following  him 
to  the  field,  and  showing  how  faithful  we  could  be 
to  him  again. 

"  So  we  came  to  the  Thursday.  The  court-mar- 
tial sat  and  gave  sentence.  Ten  out  of  every  hun- 
dred of  us  were  doomed  to  die.  We  were  taken 
up  to  a  flat  place  on  the  roof  of  the  old  church  to 
see  our  comrades  shot  in  the  church-yard  and  to 
a,bide  our  turn.  Cornet  Thompson  came;  he  and 
his  brother  had  been  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  he 
had  no  hope  of  pardon.  But  he  spoke  out  bravely, 
and  said  that  what  befell  him  Avas  just;  God  did 
not  own  the  ways  he  went;  he  had  offended  the 
General ;  he  asked  the  people  to  pray  for  him  ;  he 
told  the  men  who  stood  ready  with  loaded  guns, 
when  he  should  hold  out  his  hands  to  do  their  duty. 
I  suppose  he  gave  the  sign.  I  was  too  sick  at  heart 
to  look.  But  the  volley  came  and  he  fell.  Next 
came  two  corporals — made  no  sign  of  fear,  said  no 
word  of  repentance,  looked  the  mer  ;n  the  face  till 
they  gave  fire,  and  fell.  Then  came  Cornet  Dean 
— confessed  he  had  done  wrong,  after  a  short  pause 
received  pardon  from  the  generals.  And  so  we, 
standing  sentenced  on  the  roof  of  tl  e  old  church, 
waited  what  wrould  befall  us  next. 

"  The  shooting  was  over.  Oliver  had  us  called 
into  the  church.  There  he  preached  us  a  sermon 
none  of  us  arc  like  to  forget.     Not  long  nor  '.index 


Oy    BOTH   SUMS    Or'    'THE    SEA. 


11 


many  heads,  but  home  to  every  heart.  Some  say 
the  General  is  blundering  in  speech,  and  no  man 
knows  what  he  wTould  say.  We  always  knew.  And 
all  I  knew  of  the  sermon  that  day,  is  that  blun- 
dering or  not,  he  made  us  all  feel  we  had  blun- 
dered sorely  as  to  the  Almighty's  purposes — blun- 
dered as  to  him.  There  were  silence  enough  in  the 
old  church  that  day,  but  for  the  weeping.  The  sobs 
of  men  like  some  of  ours  are  catching  to  listen  to  ; 
Oliver's  Ironsides  are  not  too  easily  moved.  But 
that  day  I  believe  we  all  wept  together  like  chil- 
dren. We  had  lost  our  lives  and  we  had  them  given 
back  to  us;  we  had  lost  our  way  in  the  wilderness 
and  we  had  found  it  again.  We  had  lost  our  leader 
and  we  had  found  him,  and  it  will  be  hard  if  any 
noisy  talker,  free-born  John  Lilburn  or  other,  tempt 
us  to  leave  his  lead  again.  We  Ironsides  are  not 
going  to  use  our  Captain  as  the  children  of  Israel 
used  their  Moses.  Thank  God,  we  have  ancUier 
chance  given  us,  and  we  are  ready  to  follow  him  to 
Ireland,  or  to  the  world's  end. 

"  The  General  is  breaking  the  chains  fast  enough, 
and  opening  the  prisons,  and  breaking  in  pieces  the 
oppressors.  And  God  forbid  we  should  hinder  him 
again.  And  as  to  the  millennium,  the  Lord  must 
bring  it  about  in  His  own  way,  and  in  ITis  own  time. 
I  for  one  wdl  never  try  to  hurry  the  Almighty 
again,  nor  the  General." 

The  Surrey  labourers  went  home  to  sow  beans  in 

their   master's  fields.     The   army   Levellers,   after 

being  sent  for  a  while  to  the  Devizes,  were  restored 

to  their  own  regiments,  and  were  eager  to  prove 

7 


74  OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA 

their  fidelity  to  General  Cromwell  by  following  hire 
to  the  new  campaign  in  Ireland. 

It  rejoiced  me  to  hear  that  Dr.  John  Owen  was 
going  to  Ireland  as  General  Crom well's  chaplain, 
His  strong  calm  words  were  such  as  were  able  to 
move  and  to  quiet  men  like  the  Ironsides,  who  were 
not  to  be  stirred  with  zephyrs,  or  quieted  with  sweet 
murmurs  as  of  a  lady's  lute ; — words  plain  and 
strong  as  their  own  armour.  The  sound  of  a 
trumpet  was  in  them,  Job  said,  and  the  voice  of 
words. 

Often  and  often  his  words  echoed  back  to  me  as 
we  heard  them  before  the  Parliament  in  St.  Mar- 
garet's, on  the  day  of  humiliation,  the  28th  of  Feb- 
ruary. 

"  How  is  it  that  Jesus  is  in  Ireland  only  as  a  lion, 
staining-  all  His  earments  with  the  blood  of  His 
enemies,  and  none  to  hold  Him  out  as  a  lamb  sprink- 
led with  His  own  blood  to  His  friends  ?  Is  it  the 
sovereignty  and  interest  of  England  that  is  alone 
to  be  there  transacted  ?  For  my  part,  I  see  no  fur- 
ther into  the  mystery  of  these  things,  but  that  I 
could  heartily  rejoice  that,  innocent  blood  being 
expiated,  the  Irish  might  enjoy  Ireland  so  long  as 
the  moon  endureth,  so  that  Jesus  Christ  might 
possess  the  Irish.  In  this  to  deal  faithfully  with  the 
Lord  Jesus — call  Him  out  to  the  battle,  and  then 
keep  away  His  crown  ?  God  hath  been  faithful  in 
doing  great  things  for  you ;  be  faithful  in  this  one, 
do  your  utmost  for  the  preaching  of  the  gosnel  in 
Ireland."  * 

*  "  On  the  sinfulness  of  Staggering  at  the  PronustB." 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  7j 

And  again  in  the  great  sermon  on  the  shaking  ot 
heaven  and  earth,  on  the  19th  of  April. 

"  The  Lord  requireth  that  in  the  great  things  lie 
hatli  to  accomplish  in  this  generation  all  His  should 
close  with  Him  ;  that  we  be  not  sinfully  bewildered 
in  our  own  cares,  fears,  and  follies,  but  that  we  may 
follow  hard  after  God,  and  be  upright  in  our  genei 
a^ion. 

"  God  does  not  care  to  set  His  people  to  work  in 
the  dark.  They  are  the  children  of  light,  and  they 
are  no  deeds  of  darkness  which  they  have  to  do. 
He  suits  their  ligdtt  to  their  labour.  The  lisdil  of 
every  age  is  the  forerunner  of  the  work  of  every 
agp. 

"  Every  age  hath  its  peculiar  work,  hath  its  pecu 
liar  light.     The  peculiar  light  of  this   generation  is 
the  discovery    which  the  Lord  hath  made  to  His 
people    of  the  mystery  of  civil   and  ecclesiastical 
tyranny. 

"  The  works  of  God  are  vocal-speaking  works. 
They  may  be  heard,  and  read,  and  understood. 
Now  what,  I  pray,  are  the  works  He  is  bringing 
forth  upon  the  earth  ?  What  is  He  doing  in  our 
own  a  id  the  neighbouring  nations  ?  Show  me  the 
potentate  on  earth  that  hath  a  peaceable  molehill 
to  build  a  habitation  upon.  Are  not  all  the  contro- 
versies, or  most  of  them,  that  are  now  disputed  in 
letters  of  blood  among  the  nations  somewhat  of  a 
distinct  constitution  from  those  formerly  under  de- 
bate? those  tending  thereof  to  the  power  and  splen- 
dour of  single  persons,  and  these  to  the  interest  of 
the  many.     Is  not  the  hand  of  the  Lord  in  all  this  ' 


76  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA, 

Is  not  the  voice  of  Christ  in  the  midst  of  all  thin 
tumult?  What  speedy  issue  all  this  will  be  driven 
to,  I  know  not :  so  much  is  to  be  done  as  require? 
a  long  space.  Tho  igh  a  tower  may  be  pulled  down 
faster  than  it  was  set  up,  yet  that  which  hath  beeK 
building  a  thousand  years  is  not  like  to  go  down 
in  a  thousand  days. 

"  Let  the  professing  people  that  are  among  us 
look  well  to  themselves.  '  The  day  is  coming  that 
will  burn  like  an  oven.'  Dross  will  not  stand  this 
day.  We  have  many  a  hypocrite  yet  to  be  uncased. 
Try  and  search  your  hearts ;  force  not  the  Lord  to 
lay  you  open  to  all. 

"  Be  loose  from  all  shaken  things.  You  see  the 
clouds  return  after  the  rain  ;  one  storm  on  the  neck 
of  another.  '  Seeing  that  all  these  things  must  be 
dissolved,  what  manner  of  persons  ought  ye  to  be 
in  all  holy  conversation  ?'  Let  your  eyes  be  up- 
wards, and  your  hearts  be  upwards,  and  your  hands 
be  upAvards,  that  you  be  not  moved  at  the  passing 
away  of  shaken  things.  I  could  encourage  you  by 
the  glorious  issue  of  ah  these  shakings,  whose  fore- 
taste  might  be  as  marrow  to  your  bones,  though 
they  should  be  appointed  to  consumption  before  the 
accomplishment  of  it. 

"Seethe  vanity  and  folly  of  such  as  labour  to 
oppose  the  bringing  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Lord 
Jesus!  Canst  thou  hinder  the  rain  from  falling? 
Canst  thou  stop  the  sun  from  rising?  Surely  with 
far  more  ease  mayest  thou  stop  the  current  and 
course  of  nature  than  the  bringing  in  of  (he  kingd*  m 
of  Christ   in   right  ?ousness  and  peace      Some   uro 


OK  BOTH  &.DES   OF  THE  SEA. 


77 


angry,  some  are  troubled,  some  are  in  the  dark, 
some  full  of  revenge  ;  but  the  truth  is,  whether  they 
will  hear,  or  whether  they  will  forbear,  Babylon 
shall  fall,  and  all  the  glory  of  the  earth  be  stained, 
and  the  kingdoms  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  * 

On  the  7th  of  June,  Dr.  Owen  preached  again  at 
"Margaret's"  before  the  Parliament,  on  the  groat 
thanksgiving  day,  when  the  city  feasted  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  distributed  £100  to  feast  the  poor. 

Aunt  Gretel  and  my  father,  who  had  come  up 
from  Netherby,  heard  him,  with  us.  About  the 
same  time,  Annis  Nye  returned  from  one  of  the  two 
" threshing-floors," \  where  the  "Friends"  had  been 
suffered  publicly,  by  "  searching  words,"  to  sift  the 
chaff  from  the  wheat ;  and  a  "prelatical"  friend  of 
ours  came  in  to  tell  us  of  his  having  joined  in  the 
ancient  Common  Prayer  at  St.  Peter's  Church  on 
Paul's  wharf,  and  heard  good  Archbishop  TTssher 
preach. 

WJiereon  Aunt  Gretel,  who  (believing  far  more 
m  the  power  of  light  than  in  that  of  darkness)  was 
ever  wont  to  be  seeing  the  clouds  breaking:,  before 
others  could,  remarked  to  me, — 

"  Surely,  sweet  heart,  the  years  of  peace  are  al- 
ready in  sight.  Quakers,  Prelatists,  and  Puritans 
free  to  do  what  good  they  can  in  their  different 
ways,  what  is  that  but  the  lion  lying  down  with  the 
lumb  ?" 

*  "  On  the  Shaking  of  Heaven  and  Earth." 
f  These  two  threshing  floors  are  fiist  spoken  of  a  few  ye%7» 
Uter,  in  1855. 

7* 


7 8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

"  Ah,  sister  Gretel,"  said  my  father,  "  liona  {.ml 
lambs  have  lain  down  together  in  cages,  with  ihe 
keeper's  eye  on  them,  many  a  time  before  now, 
when  they  were  well  fed,  and  could  not  help  it.  It 
remains  to  be  seen  what  they  will  do  when  the 
keeper s  eye  is  removed.  General  Cromwell  saith 
all  sects  cry  for  liberty  when  they  are  oppressed, 
but  he  never  yet  met  with  any  that  would  allow  it 
to  any  one  else  when  they  were  in  power." 

And  as  we  passed  the  kitchen  door  on  our  way 
upstairs,  we  heard  sounds  of  scarcely  millennial 
debate. 

I  am  afraid  Annis  Nye  had  been  taking  a  femi- 
nine advantage  of  the  failure  of  her  antagonist's 
cause  to  remind  him  how  she  had  forewarned  him. 
For  Job  was  saying, — 

"  Convinced  we  are  not  to  look  for  the  Fifth  Mon- 
archy because  we  poor  soldiers  blundered  about  the 
ways  and  the  times  !  As  little  as  a  man  would  be 
convinced  the  sun  was  never  to  rise  because  some 
idle  watch-dog  waked  him  up  too  soon  by  baykig 
at  the  moon.  Moved  from  the  error  of  my  ways  ! 
Moved  at  farthest  from  the  First  of  Thessalonians 
to  the  Second.  Not  a  whit  farther.  But  that  folks 
should  call  themselves  Friends  of  Truth,  who  are 
not  to  be  brought  round  by  chapter  and  verse,  is  a 
marvel.  General  Cromwell  knows  what  he  is  about 
in  letting  such  have  their  '  threshing-floors.'  There 
are  those  that  think  another  sort  of  threshing-flooi 
might  be  best  to  sift  such  chaff  away.  Eden  is  be- 
fore us,  Mistress  Annis;  before  as  well  as  behind 
And  the  best  Paradise  is  to  come.*' 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  dEA.  7g 

"  The  lion  and  the  lamb  are  scarcely  at  peace  yet, 
sister  Gretel !"  said  my  father. 

But  when  we  were  all  seated  together  in  the  par- 
lour that  evening,  my  father  said, — 

"How  many  hearts,  like  Job  Forster's,  have  be- 
lieved they  saw  the  breaking  of  the  dawn,  which 
was  to  usher  in  the  golden  age,  when  it  was  only 
the  breaking  forth  of  the  moon  from  the  clouds,  or 
perhaps  only  the  deepening  of  the  darkness,  which 
they  thought  must  be  the  darkest  hour  preceding 
the  dawn.  The  Thessalonians  of  old;  the  earlv 
Church  in  her  persecutions ;  Gregory  the  Great  at 
the  breaking  up  of  the  Empire ;  the  Middle  Ages 
in  the  year  One  Thousand,  with  a  trembling  expec 
tation  which  led  men,  not  indeed  to  sow  beans  on 
commons  to  make  the  whole  earth  fruitful,  but  to 
sow  nothing,  believing  that  earth's  last  harvest  was 
at  hand." 

"Yet  were  they  far  wroug  ?"  said  my  husband. 
"The  moonlight  and  the  morning  both  draw  their 
light  from  the  sun.  The  dawn  shows  that  he  is 
coming,  but  all  light  worth  the  name  testifies  that 
he  is.  In  the  moon,  which  dimly  lights  our  night, 
it  is  already  day.  So  that  the  moonlight,  in  truth, 
it  as  sure  a  promise  of  the  day  as  the  dawn." 


Chapter     III. 


LETTICE'S      DIARY. 


OUEN. — We  have  not  yet  been  abli 
to  enter  Paris.  The  city  is  in  great 
excitement  with  the  wars  of  the  Fronde. 
The  queen-mother,  Anne  of  Austria, 
and  the  young  king  Louis  XIV.,  have  been  com- 
pelled to  fly  to  St.  Germains.  It  is  strange  to  be 
exiled  from  one  Civil  War  to  another.  The  French 
Court  is  so  poor  in  consequence  of  these  tumults, 
that  they  have  had  to  dismiss  some  of  their  pages ; 
and  it  is  reported  that  our  own  youngest  princess, 
Henrietta,  was  obliged  to  stay  in  bed  to  keep  her- 
self warm  for  lack  of  fuel  to  light  a  fire. 

"  I  have  not  had  to  wait  long  for  the  fulfilment 
of  my  murmuring  wish,  that  some  simple,  homely 
woman's  duty  were  separating  me  from  Roger,  iu- 
stead  of  a  political  crime. 

"  When  my  father  returned  from  paying  such 
farewell  courtesies  as  he  might  to  Mistress  Dorothy, 
he  said,  fixing  a  penetrating  look  on  me  (who,  if  I 
cast  down  my  eyes,  could  not  hide  from  him  my 
eyelids  swollen  with  weeping), — 
(80) 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  8 1 

"  '  Master  Roger  Drayton  was  longer  than  need 
be  in  fetching  Mistress  Dorothy's  mantle.  I  trust. 
Lettice,  thou  gavest  him  no  cause.' 

"  Then  I  told  him  all,  as  well  as  brief  words 
might  tell  it. 

"  '  Thou  hast  done  well,'  said  he.  '  Could  I  think 
daughter  of  mine  would  have  felt  otherwise  to  one 
of  those  who  have  made  England  a  reproach  and  a 
curse  on  the  earth,  I  would  sooner  she  had  died. 
For  to  eternity  my  curse  would  rest  on  her,  and 
never  would  I  see  her  face  again.' 

"  Then  seeing  me  grow  pale,  he  added,  in  a  cheery 
voice, — 

"  '  But  what  need  to  speak  of  curses  ?  Thou  art 
a  true  maiden,  Lettice,  as  true  as  fair.  And  many 
a  hand  there  is  that  would  be  glad  to  be  linked  with 
this  little  hand,  none  the  less  that  it  has  rejected  a 
traitor.' 

"  Then  I  gathered  courage  once  lor  all,  and  said, — 

"  '  Father,  they  were  good  as  angels  to  mother 
and  to  me.  I  shall  always  love  them  better  than 
any  in  the  world,  save  thee  ;  I  shall  always  think 
'Jum  holier  and  wiser,  and  more  true  and  good  than 
any  in  the  world,  save  mother.  For  my  sake,  father, 
say  no  ill  of  them.  It  wounds  me  to  the  heart. 
And,  father,  say  no  more  of  any  other  wooer.  I 
will  live  for  thee  and  for  no  other.' 

"  He  was  not  moved  as  I  hoped  by  my  pleading. 
He  only  smiled  and  said, — 

"  '  No  need  for  me  to  say  anything  of  other  woo- 
ers, child.  They  may  speak  for  themselves.  But 
us  to  living  for  lie,  I  fear  thou  wilt  find  me  a  rough 


82  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

old  tyrant  enough  to  live  with,  say  nothing  if  liv- 
ing for.  See  already,  when  I  meant  to  cheer  theo 
I  have  made  thee  weep.  Maidens  are  mysterious,' 
he  added,  ooinsr  to  the  window  and  whistling  uu- 
easily.  Then  returning,  he  laid  his  hand  kindly  on 
my  shoulder,  saying,  '  Come,  come  child.  Thou 
shalt  be  as  wood  to  me  as  thou  wilt.  And  I  will 
say  as  little  evil  of  any  thou  carest  for  as  I  can, 
though  as  to  picking  my  words  it  is  what  1  am 
little  used  to.  Only  no  tragedy,  Lettice,  and  no 
heroics  !  Your  mother  knew  I  had  no  capacity  for 
the  heroics,  and  she  never  troubled  me  with  them. 
I  knew  that  she  loved  the  mountain-tops,  and  now 
and  then  I  should  hear  her  singing  there  as  it  were 
like  a  lark  or  an  angel.  But  she  never  expected 
me  to  climb.  She  had  her  divine  songs,  and  her 
ho-oic  epics,  and  her  lays,  and  her  romaunts,  and  I 
loved  her  all  the  better  for  them,  but  to  me  she 
always  talked  in  prose,  so  that  we  understood  each 
other.     Thou  and  I  will  do  the  same." 

"  And  then  the  horses  were  ready,  and  we  rode 
away  together  to  Rouen. 

"  But  his  words  are  very  mournful  to  me.  Are 
only  the  streets  and  market-places,  as  it  were,  of 
our  souls  to  be  open  to  each  other,  and  the  inmost 
places,  the  hearth  and  the  church,  always  to  be 
closed  ? 

"  Yet  there  is  a  kind  of  unreasonable  consolation 
in  the  prohibition  of  my  father's  as  to  Roger.  It 
is  a  terrible  strain  to  have  to  keep  that  door  closed 
myself;  whilst,  at  the  same  time,  the  barrier  of 
another's  will  seems  less  impenetrable  than  that  of 
my  own  purpose. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  83 

"  May  3rd.--!  am  not  sure  that  ray  father's  woids 
were  not  the  best  niadicine  in  the  world  for  n:e.  It 
is  so  much  better  to  have  to  meet  others  than  to 
expect  them  to  meet  us. 

"  I  have  not  to  erect  my  cross  into  an  idolatry, 
3erving  it  with  a  ritual  of  passionate  kisses  and  tears. 
I  have  to  carry  it ;  and  to  do  my  work  carrying  it. 

'•  '  Si  tu  critcem  portas  ;  ipsa  te  vicissim  pnrtabil} 
saith  my  mother's  A  Kempis. 

"  Shall  I  indeed  ever  prove  that  ?  Not  as  a  suf- 
ferer only,  but  as  a  conqueror  ?  Then  how  ?  Not 
surely  by  looking  at  my  cross,  but  by  bearing  it. 
Not  by  bearing  it  with  downcast  eyes,  but  with 
eyes  upward  to  the  redeeming  Cross  now  empty  ; — 
to  the  living  Conqueror  who  once  suflered  there  ! 

"  May  1th. — Mistress  Dorothy  left  a  sermon  of 
Dr.  Owen's  with  me.  It  was  preached  on  occasion 
of  a  Parliament  victory  over  the  king  at  Colchester 
and  Romford.  She  asked  my  forbearance  with  the 
occasion.  '  Not  difficult  to  exercise  (I  said),  since 
victor  and  vanquished,  King  and  Parliament,  are 
both  banished  now  before  this  new  usurpation.' 

"  I  read  it  with  interest.  Little  of  the  cant  some 
think  characteristic  of  the  Puritan  speech  there. 
Dr.  Owen  calls  Colchester,  Colchester,  and  not 
Cilead  or  Manasseh  ;  and  England,  England,  not 
Canaan  ;  and  Naseby,  Naseby,  not  Jezreel  or  Ar- 
mageddon :  and  his  enemies  their  own  English 
names,  not  bulls  of  Bashan,  or  Amorites,  or  Edom- 
ites,  or  Ilagarenes. 

"  But  it  is  for  what  he  saith  therein  on  trouble, 
that  6he   *jave  it  me.     The  text  is  the  prayer  of 


84  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

Habakkuk  the  pi'ophet  upon  Shigionoth.  Shigio 
notli,  saith  the  doctor,  means  '  variety,  a  song  in 
various  metres.'  '  Are  not  God's  variable  dispen- 
sations held  out  under  these  variable  tunes,  not  all 
alike  fitted  to  one  string  ?  Are  not  several  tunes 
of  mercy  and  judgment  in  those  songs  ?  "  By  ter- 
rible things  in  righteousness  wilt  thou  answer  us.n 
Nothing  more  refreshes  the  panting  soul  than  an 
"  answer  "  of  its  desires  ;  but  to  have  this  answer 
by  "  terrible  things  " — that  string  strikes  a  humbling, 
a  mournful  note. 

"  '  We  are  clothed  by  our  Father  in  a  party-co- 
loured coat ;  here  a  piece  of  unexpected  deliver- 
ance, and  there  a  piece  of  deserved  correction.  The 
cry  of  every  soul  is  like  the  cry  of  old  and  young 
at  the  foundation  of  the  second  temple.  A  mixed 
cry  is  in  our  streets. 

"  '  A  full  wind  behind  the  ship  drives  her  not  so 
fast  forward  as  a  side  wind  that  seems  almost  as 
much  against  her  as  with  her ;  and  the  reason,  they 
say,  is,  because  a  full  wind  fills  but  some  of  her 
sails,  which  keep  it  from  the  rest  that  they  are 
empty,  when  a  side  wind  fills  all  her  sails,  and  sends 
her  speedily  forward. 

"'Labour  to  have  your  hearts  right  tuned  for 
these  variable  songs,  and  sweetly  to  answer  all 
God's  dispensations  in  their  choice  variety.  It  is 
a  song  that  reacheth  every  line  of  our  hearts,  to  be 
framed  by  the  grace  and  Spirit  of  God.  Therein 
hope,  fear,  reverence,  with  humility  and  repentance 
have  a  space,  as  well  as  joy,  delight,  and  love,  with 
thankfulness. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SE (L.  8  J 

"  '  That  instrument  will  make  no  music  that  hath 
but  some  strings  in  tune.  If,  when  God  strikes  on 
the  string  of  joy  and  gladness,  we  answer  plea- 
santly ;  but  when  lie  touches  upon  that  of  sorrow 
and  humiliation,  we  suit  it  not ;  we  are  hroken  in- 
struments that  make  no  melody  unto  God.  A  well- 
tuned  heart  must  have  all  its  strings,  all  its  affec- 
tions, ready  to  answer  every  touch  of  God's  finger. 
He  will  make  everything  beautiful  in  its  time. 
Sweet  harmony  cometh  out  of  some  discords. 
When  hath  a  gracious  heart  the  soundest  joys, 
but  when  it  hath  the  deepest  sorrows  ?  When 
hath  it  the  humblest  meltings,  but  when  it  hath 
the  most  ravishing  joys  ? 

"  '  In  every  distress  learn  to  wait  with  patience  for 
the  appointed  time.  Wait  for  it  believing,  wait 
for  it  praying,  wait  for  it  contending.  Waiting  is 
not  a  lazy  hope,  a  sluggish  expectation. 

" '  Ye  must  be  weary  and  thirsty,  ye  must  be  led 
into  the  wilderness  before  the  rock-Avaters  come. 
Yet  (to  those  who  wait)  they  shall  come.  Though 
grace  and  mercy  seem  to  be  locked  up  from  them 
like  water  in  a  flint,  whence  fire  is  more  natural 
than  water, — yet  God  will  strike  abundance  out  of 
Christ  for  their  refreshment  with  His  rod  of  mercy. 

" '  He  would  have  His  people  wholly  wrapt  up  in 
His  all-sufficiency.  Have  your  souls  never  in  spiritual 
trial  been  drawn  from  all  your  outworks  to  this 
mam  for*,  ?  God  delights  to  have  the  soul  give  up 
itself  t<  a  contented  losing  of  all  its  reasonings 
even  in  the  infinite  unsearchableness  of  His  good- 
ness and  power  Here  He  would  ha  re  us  secure  oui 
8 


86  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

shallow  harks  vn  this  quiet  sea,  this  infinite  ocean 
whither  neither  wind  nor  storm  do  once  approach. 
"  '  Those  blustering  temptations  which  rage  at 
the  shore,  when  we  are  half  at,  land  and  half  at  sea, 
half  upon  the  bottom  of  our  own  reason  and  half 
upon  the  ocean  of  Providence,  reach  not  at  all  into 
this  deep.  Oh,  that  we  could  in  all  our  trials  lay 
ourselves  down  in  these  arms  of  the  Almighty,  His 
all-sufficiency  in  power  and  goodness.  Oh,  how  much 
of  the  haven  should  we  have  in  our  voyage ;  how 
much  of  home  in  our  pilgrimage,  how  much  of 
heaven  in  this  wretched  earth  ! ' 

"  Words  of  strong  consolation,  Dr.  Owen,  to 
reach  even  to  us  '  malignant '  exiles  in  this  foreign 
land. 

"  May  4///. — It  was  well  I  copied  these  words  out ; 
for  my  father,  seeing  the  superscription  of  the  pam- 
phlet, grew  very  fierce  at  it,  called  it  a  firebrand 
and  a  seditious  libel,  and  bade  Barbe,  our  servant, 
light  her  next  fire  therewith. 

u  And  to-day  he  hath  brought  me  the  '  Icon  Basi- 
like,'  daintily  bound  like  a  missal. 

"  '  Here  is  reading  fitter  for  a  loyal  maiden,'  quoth 
he.  Since  whicl  I  have  done  little  else  but  lament 
ever  the  sorrows  and  heavenly  patience  of  His  Sa- 
cred Majesty. 

"  If  Olive  and  the  rest  could  but  see  this,  they 
would  surely  be  melted  to  rt  pentance,  and  enkind- 
led to  counterwork  their  sad  misdoings.  And  who 
shall  say  any  repentance  is  vain  ? 

"  My  father  is  full  of  hope  at  present.     We  h&vi 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   (  F   THE  SEA.  S, 

had  fearful  accounts  of  the  disorders  in  the  cit)  of 
London  and  in  the  array ;  the  very  strongholds  of 
the  rebels.  The  whole  country  seems  to  be  in  a 
blaze.  Executions,  funeral  processions  in  honoui 
of  the  people  executed,  mutiny  suppressed  only  by 
the  strongest  measures.  Surely  this  tumult  must 
spend  itself,  or  exhaust  the  nation  soon.  And,  as  if 
smitten  with  madness,  they  say  the  substance  of 
the  army  and  its  greatest  chiefs  are  to  depart  for 
Ireland,  leaving  this  half-suppressed  conflagration 
behind  them. 

"  These  things  nourish  great  hopes  among  us. 

"Meanwhile,  from  Scotland  there  are  the  most 
oncouracnnof  tidings,  the  whole  nation  seeming  to 
be  awaking  to  their  duty.  His  Majesty  the  young 
king  will  depart  before  long,  to  be  a  rallying  point 
for  this  reviving  loyalty. 

August  20,  Paris. — The  tumults  of  the  Fronde  are 
over.  The  French  Court  has  returned  to  Paris,  and 
it  is  my  work  at  present  to  give  as  much  a  look  of 
home  as  I  can  to  these  four  or  five  great  rooms  on 
one  floor  of  an  hotel  belonging  to  one  ot*  the  ancient 
decayed  nobility,  where  we  are  to  make  our  sojourn. 
[Abode  is  a  word  I  will  never  use  in  relation  to  this 
land  of  our  exile.) 

"These  rooms  open  into  each  other,  and  ccm- 
mand  an  inner  courtyard,  where  a  fountain  flows  all 
day  from  a  classical  marble  urn  held  by  a  nymph. 
The  cool  trickle  is  very  pleasant  to  hear  in  this 
great  heat.  On  this  nymph  and  on  other  classical 
statues,  the  cook  of  the  French  family  who  live  be- 
low U8  jrwverently  hangs  his  pots  and  pans  to  dry 


88  ON  LOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

singing,  meanwhile,  snatches  of  chansons,  which 
end  high  up  in  the  scale,  with  all  kinds  of  unexpec- 
ted and  indescribable  flourishes. 

"  Our  family  is  enlarged.  Besides  our  own  cook, 
we  have  a  French  waiting-maid,  who  also  does  work 
about  my  rooms.  She  has  wonderfully  lissom  lin- 
gers, turning  everything  out  of  her  hands,  from  my 
coiffure  to  my  father's  chocolate,  with  a  finish  and 
neatness  which  give  to  our  little  household  arrange- 
ments such  a  grace  and  order  as  if  we  had  a  splen- 
did establishment.  Indeed,  few  of  our  fellow-exiles 
have  the  comforts  we  have.  Our  revenues  come  to 
us  regularly,  my  father  knows  not  (or  will  not  know) 
how.  But  I  feel  little  doubt  to  whose  hands  and 
hearts  we  owe  them.  They  enable  us  to  keep  some- 
thing like  an  open  table  in  a  simple  way  for  our 
countrymen,  so  that  we  hear  much  of  what  is 
going  on. 

"  August  -26th. — Our  rooms  do  begin  to  have  some- 
thing of  a  home  feeling.  My  youngest  brother, 
Walter,  has  joined  us.  Roland,  now  our  eldest,  is 
not  hopeful  as  to  the  king's  prospects  wmile  Oliver 
Cromwell  lives,  and  has  offered  his  sword  to  the 
Spanish  Court.  But  Walter  is  a  marvellous  solace 
and  delight  to  us.  ITe  was  always  the  gayest  and 
lightest-hearted  of  the  band  of  brothers,  and  (except 
Harry)  the  kindest  and  gentlest.  In  all  other  re- 
spects he  resembled  my  mother  more  than  any  of  us. 
The  bright  auburn  hair  (such  a  crown,  when  flow- 
ing in  the  Cavalier  love-locks)  ;  the  soft  eyes.  And, 
next  to  Harry,  he  was  most  on  her  heart.  In  a  dif- 
ferent way — Harry  as  her  stay  and  rest ;  Walter  as 


ON  BOTE   SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  gg 

her  tenderest  anxiety.  So  much  she  thought  there 
was  of  promise  in  him,  yet  so  much  to  cause  solici- 
tude. None  amongst  us  were  so  moved  in  child- 
h  >od  by  devotional  feeling.  As  a  child,  he  said 
lovely  things  to  her,  having  an  angelic  insight,  she 
deemed,  into  the  beauty  of  heavenly  truth.  She 
would  weep  in  repeating  these  sayings,  and  say  she 
feared  ( '  but  ought  to  hope ' )  it  betokened  eai-ly 
death.  But  this  passed  away  with  early  childhood. 
As  a  boy,  he  was  the  merriest,  and,  in  some  ways, 
the  wildest  of  all;  the  oftenest  in  difficulties,  though 
the  soonest  out  of  them.  But  she  had  ever  the 
strongest  influence  over  him.  And  up  to  her  death, 
although  he  had  done  many  things  to  make  hei 
anxious,  he  had  done  nothing  to  make  her  despond. 

"In  her  last  illness  she  spoke  of  him  more  than 
of  any  one,  and  charged  me  to  care  for  him. 

"  And  now  he  is  once  more  at  home  with  us,  and 
seems  to  cling  to  me  with  much  of  the  fond  reve- 
rence he  had  for  her.  In  the  twilight  on  Sundays 
he  likes  me  to  talk  of  her,  and  sing  the  heavenly 
songs  she  loved. 

"  And  for  his  sake  mainly  I  tune  my  lute,  and 
sing  old  English  songs,  and  learn  some  new  French 
ones,  and  mind  the  fashions  of  the  Court ;  not  that 
for  my  own  sake  I  like  to  have  ill-made  or  misco- 
loured  clothes.  (I  think,  too,  there  is  one  who 
w7ould  care;  and  whether  he  ever  see  me  again  or 
not,  I  have  a  kind  of  self-regard  due  to  him.  Who 
can  tell  if  Oliver  might  repent,  or  die,  and  England 
be  England  once  more  ?  ) 

"  Augvsi  2U;>. — This  day  my  father  has  presented 


9o  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

me  to  a  sweet  aged  French  lady,  Madame  la  Motha 
St.  Rcmy.  She  knew  my  mother,  in  long  past  days, 
at  the  English  Court,  and  for  her  sake  has  welcomed 
me  as  a  child  (having  none  of  her  own),  embracing 
me  tenderly,  kissing  me  on  both  cheeks.  A  most 
lovely  lady,  with  a  sweet  grandeur  in  her  demea- 
nour, which  made  me  feel  as  if  I  had  been  given  the 
honour  of  the  Tabouret  at  Court,  when  she  seated 
me  on  a  low  seat  beside  her.  clasping  my  hands  in 
hers. 

"  When  we  were  left  alone  together,  after  some 
conversation  on  indifferent  topics,  pushing  my  haix 
back  from  my  forehead,  she  said, — 

"  'The  same  face,  my  child  !  but  different  tints  ; 
and  a  different  soul.  More  colour,  I  think,  without 
and  within.  The  brown  richer,  the  gold  brighter, 
the  eyes  darker,  and  a  look  in  them  which  seems  to 
say,  life  will  not  easily  conquer  what  looks  through 
them.  Of  colour  here,'  she  said,  stooping  and  kis- 
sing my  cheek,  'perhaps  I  must  not  judge  at  this 
moment.  Pardon  me,  my  child,  that  I  spoke  as 
if  I  was  speaking  to  a  picture.  When  we  see  the 
children  of  those  whom  we  loved  in  early  years,  we 
see  our  youth  in  their  faces.  To  me  thou  art  not 
only  Mademoiselle  Lettice,  thou  art  a  whole  lost 
world  of  love  and  delight.  When  I  look  at  thee  I 
see  not  thee  only,  I  see  visions  and  dream  dreams. 
Ah,  pardon,  my  child,  I  have  made  thee  weep;  I 
have  brought  back  her  image  indeed  into  thine 
eyes,' 

•'    Ted  me  of  her,  madame,'  I  said. 

*  *  How  shall  I  tell  thee  of  ber  ?     She  was  a  Si 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF   THE  SEA.  91 

Agnes — a  beautiful  soul  lent  for  a  season  to  this 
world  never  belonging  to  it.  Some  called  her  an 
angel ;  that  she  never  was.  When  first  I  knew  her, 
she  was  simple,  joyous,  guileless  as  a  child,  but  al- 
ways tender,  with  tears  near  the  brim,  a  heart  sen- 
sitive to  every  touch  of  delight  or  pain  ;  not  strong, 
radiant,  triumphant,  like  the  angels  who  have  never 
suffered.' 

"  '  She  had  suffered  even  then,'  I  said,  '  when  you 
knew  her,  madame  ?' 

"  '  She  never  told  thee  ?  Ah  then,  perhaps,  I 
make  treacherous  revelations.  What  right  have  I 
to  lift  the  veil  she  kept  so  faithfully  drawn  ?' 

"  k  You  can  tell  me  nothing  of  my  mother,  ma- 
dame,' I  said,  '  which  will  not  make  her  memory 
more  sacred.' 

"  '  Ao-ain,  that  look  is  not  hers  !  Your  face  be- 
wilders  me,  my  child.  This  moment  soft  like  hers ; 
now  all  enkindled,  full  of  fire;  to  do  battle  for  her, 
I  know,' — she  added.  '  But,  as  thou  sayest,  there  is 
nothing  which  needs  to  be  concealed.' 

"  '  Madame,'  I  said,  '  her  life  belongs  to  me,  does 
it  not  ?  any  recollection  of  her  is  my  legacy  and 
treasure.  I  also  may  have  to  endure.  Most  women 
have.' 

"  '  It  was  my  brother,  my  child,'  she  said.  'The 
Borrow  was  half  mine,  which  perhaps  gives  me  some 
right  to  speak.  He  was  in  the  embassy  in  London, 
and  I,  recently  married,  was  there  also.  They  loved 
each  other.  They  were  all  but  betrothed.  But 
they  were  separated.  Calumnious  cabals,  I  know 
not  what.     The  misery  of  these  things  is,  that  one 


p2  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

never  knows  how  they  go  wrong;.  A  bewildering 
mist,  :i  breath  of  gusty  rumour,  and  the  souls  which 
saw  into  each  other's  depths  with  a  glance,  which 
revealed  to  each  other  life-secrets  in  a  tone,  which 
were  as  one,  which  are  as  one,  lose  each  other  on 
the  sea  of  life,  drifting  for  ever  further  and  further 
apart,  beyond  reach  of  look,  or  tone,  or  cry  of  an- 
guish. So  it  was  with  them.  He  came  back  to 
France,  bewildered,  despairing ;  sought  death  on 
more  than  one  battle-field ;  at  last  found  it.  And 
then  we  learned  how  true  she  was  to  him ;  what  a 
depth  of  passionate  love  dwelt  in  the  child-like 
heart.  But  two  years  afterwards  your  father  en- 
treated and  your  grandfather  insisted,  till  at  length 
she  yielded  and  was  married.  They  thought  the 
old  love  was  dead.  But  when  I  saw  her  afterwards, 
pale,  meek,  and  passive,  like  the  ghost  of  herself,  I 
thought  it  was  not  the  love  that  was  dead,  but  the 
heart.' 

"  '  But  her  heart  was  not  dead,  madame,'  I  said. 
'  She  loved  us  all  at  home  with  a  love  tender,  and 
living,  and  fervent  as  ever  warmed  heart  or  home.' 

"  '  Without  doubt,  my  child,'  said  madame.  'Duty 
was  a  kind,  of  passion  with  her  always.  She  was 
ardent  in  goodness,  as  others  are  in  love.  There  is 
the  passion  of  maternal  love,  and  there  is  the  flame 
of  devotion.  A  great  passion  may  leave  fuel  for 
other  fires  in  a  pure  heart,  but  it  leaves  no  place  for 
a  second  like  itself.  But  why  should  I  speak  tc  thee 
thus?  thou  who  art  but  a  child.  After  all,  have  I 
been  a  traitor?' 

"  '  It  is  my  English  fairness  and  -;olour,  perhaps, 


ON  BOTH    SIDES  OF   THE  SEA. 


93 


which  make  madam e  think  me  younger  than  1  am. 
Do  not  repent  what  you  have  told  me ;  I  maj  need 
such  memories  yet  to  strengthen  me.' 

"  She  smiled,  one  of  those  smiles  which  always 
bring  youth  into  the  faces  that  have  them ;  a  smile 
from  the  heart,  which  lit  up  her  dark  eyes  so  that 
mv  heart  was  warmed  at  their  light — and  turned 
the  wrinkles  into  dimples,  and  seemed  to  bring  sun- 
shine on  the  silky  white  hair. 

"  '  No,  no,  my  friend,'  she  said,  '  thou  wilt  never 
suffer  as  she  did.     Thou  wilt  conquer  thy  destiny.' 

"  '  She  conquered,'  I  said;  'she  was  the  joy  and 
blessing  of  every  heart  that  knew  her.' 

"  '  As  to  heaven  and  duty,  yes,  my  child  ;  she  wa? 
a  saint.  But  thou  wilt  conquer  as  to  earth  also ;  1 
see  it  in  thine  eyes.' 

"How  little  she  knows  ! 

"  This  history  has  made  so  many  things  clear  to 
me.  I  know  now  what  my  mother  meant  when  she 
said  I  could  never  save  Sir  Launcelot  by  marrying 
him,  unless  I  loved  him.  I  know  now  how  it  was 
she  bore  so  passively  some  things  which  I  could 
have  wished  otherwise  at  home.  She  felt,  I  think, 
that,  give  what  she  might  in  patience,  and  duty, 
and  loyal  regard,  she  could  not  give  my  father  what 
he  had  given  her.  And  therefore,  perhaps,  she  could 
not,  as  he  said,  help  him  to  'climb.'  She  could 
come  down  to  him  in  all  loving,  lowly  ministries 
and  forbearances;  but  love  only  (I  think),  in  that 
relationship,  can  have  that  instinctive  sympathy, 
that  secret  irresistible  constraint  which,  with  a  thou- 
sand wilfulnesses  and  blunderings,  yet  could  /rive 


94  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

drawn  his  soul  up  to  hers.  When  so  much  of  the 
strength  of  the  nature  is  spent  in  keeping  doors  of 
memory  rigidly  closed,  perchance  too  little  is  left  to 
meet  the  little  daily  difficulties  of  life  with  the  play 
and  freedom  which  makes  them  light.  And  this 
awakens  a  new  strong  hope  in  my  heart,  binding 
ine  as  never  before  with  a  fond,  regretful  reverence 
to  my  father.     Something  she  has  left  me  to  do. 

"  Something,  perhaps,  which  she  could  never  have 
done  for  him.  I  (so  far  beneath  her  ! )  may,  by  vir- 
tue of  there  being  no  locked-up  world  of  the  past 
between  us,  help  a  little  more  to  lead  him  to  those 
other  heights  which  he  protested  to  her  he  could 
never  climb.  By  virtue,  moreover,  of  not  having  to 
stoop  from  any  heights  to  him,  but  being  in  the 
valley  with  him,  so  that  I  can  honestly  say  and  feel, 
'  we  will  try  to  climb  together.' 

"For  in  this  at  least  I  am  sure  the  Puritans  are 
right.  The  up-hill  path  is  no  exceptional  supere 
rogatory  excursion  for  those  who  have  a  peculiai 
fancy  for  mountain-tops;  it  is  the  one  L-^cessary 
path  for  every  one  of  us,  and  it  is  always  up-hill  to 
the  end ;  the  only  other  being,  not  along  the  levels, 
but  downward,  downward,  every  step  downward, 
out  of  the  pure  air,  out  of  the  sun-light ;  d  o-wnwarcl 
for  ever ! 

"  August  23(7. — To-day  I  kissed  our  queers  hand. 
She  embraced  me,  and  said  gracious  wo/ds  abou\ 
my  mother.  She  was  in  deep  mourning  ;  and  with 
her  was  the  little  Princess  Henrietta,  a  chi)  d  cf  mar- 
vellous vivacity  and  grace.  Her  Majesty  ivould 
graciously  have   taken   me  into   closer  connection 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


95 


with  hii  Court,  and  with  the  French  Court  also. 
But  my  father  seems  not  solicitous  for  this.  He  is 
all  the  more  an  Englishman  for  being  an  exile;  and 
lie  misiiketh  their  Popish  doings,  and  some  other 
doings  of  which  probably  the  Pope  would  disap- 
prove as  much  as  the  Puritans.  He  saith  the  French 
courtiers,  many  of  them,  seem  to  think  of  nothing 
but  making  love,  without  sufficiently  considering 
to  whom  ;  not  making  love  and  settling  it  once  for 
all  like  reasonable  people,  but  going  on  making  it 
the  amusement  of  their  lives  all  the  way  through, 
which  is  quite  another  thing.  And  he  thinks  the 
less  I  hear  of  all  this  the  better. 

"  He  saith,  moreover,  that  the  company  around 
the  young  king,  if  fit  enough  for  His  Majesty  and 
for  young  men  like  Walter,  who  'must  sow  their 
wild  oats  on  some  field,'  is  not  the  fittest  for  me. 

"  But  it  seems  to  me  I  should  be  ten  thousand 
times  safer  in  such  company  than  Walter,  impetuous 
and  gay,  and  easily  moved,  and  with  no  great  love 
in  his  heart  to  keep  it  pure  and  warm.  I  would  I 
could  find  him  some  such  French  maiden  as  Ma- 
dame laMothe  must  have  been  when  she  was  young. 
Are  these  wild  oats,  tt°,n,  the  only  seeds  in  the 
world  that  yield  no  harvest  ?  My  heart  aches  for 
Walter  in  that  bad  world  where  I  cannot  follow 
him,  and  whence  he  so  often  comes  back  flushed, 
and  hasty,  and  impatient,  and  unlike  himself. 

"  Last  Sunday  we  attended  the  English  service, 
which  our  queen  has  obtained  permission  to  be  held 
in  a  hall  at  the  palace  of  the  Louvre.  Bishop  Cosiii* 
officiated. 


96  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

*'  It  was  the  happiest  hour  I  have  spent  in  this 
strange  land.  The  sacred  old  words,  how  they  come 
home  to  the  heart.  Not  heaven  alone  is  in  them ; 
but  England,  home,  childhood. 

';  Unhappy  Puritans  !  to  have  banished  the  old 
prayers  from  parish-church,  hall,  and  minster. 

"  Unhappy  Papistical  people  !  to  banish  them  into 
a  dead  ancient  language.  The  other  day  I  went 
with  my  father  into  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame. 
The  priests  were  chanting  in  Latin  at  the  altar. 
Those  Catholic  children  can  have  none  of  the  mem- 
ories so  dear  to  us  of  the  gradual  breaking  of  the 
light  into  the  dear  old  words,  as  in  our  childhood 
we  wake  up  to  them  one  by  one  to  see  they  are  not 
music  only,  but  words  :  to  find  a  joyful  significance 
in  each  sentence  oi  the  creeds  and  hymns  and 
prayers 

-•  i  wonder  what  they  have  instead  ? 

"  September  8th. — To-day  Madame  la  Mothe  came 
into  my  bed-chamber.  Seeing  the  little  table  with 
the  picture  of  the  Crucifixion  my  mother  loved,  rest- 
ing on  it,  and  her  Bible  and  A  Kempis  on  it  (with 
the  'Icon  Basilike'),  she  crossed  herself  and  em- 
braced me,  pointing  to  the  picture. 

"  '  It  was  my  mother's,'  I  said. 

"  '  Had  she  then  come  back  to  the  Church  ?' 

'"She  was  always  in  the  Church,  madame,'  I 
said  ;  '  she  was  no  Sectary.' 

"  '  Excuse  me,  I  do  not  understand  your  English 
terms.  I  mean  the  true,  the  ancient  CLurch,'  she 
rejoined. 

f< '  My  mother   believed  ours  to  be  the    ancient 


OX  BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


9? 


Church,  madame,'  I  said.  '  We  are  not  mere  Cal 
vinista  or  Lutherans.' 

"  '  No  doubt,  my  child,  I  would  not  give  you 
offence ;  but  it  is  not  to  be  expected  a  Catholic 
should  recognize  those  little  distinctions  among 
those  we  must  consider  heretics.  You  understand, 
I  mean  no  offence,  it  is  simply  that  I  am  ignorant. 
Perplex  me  not  with  those  subtleties,  my  child  ;  I 
a  <k,  can  it  be  possible  that  thou  and  thine  are  re- 
turning to  allegiance  to  His  Holiness  the  Pope,  and 
the  holy  Roman  Church  ?' 

"  '  Our  Church  does  not  indeed  acknowledge  the 
Pope,  madame,  nor  the  Roman  Church,'  I  said,  try- 
ing to  recall  some  of  the  debates  I  had  heard  on  the 
matter,  which  had  in  itself  never  much  occupied 
me.  '  We  are  English,  not  Roman.  But  I  have 
heard  our  chaplain  speak  with  the  greatest  respect 
of  some  popes  Avho  lived,  I  think,  a  little  more  than 
a  thousand  years  ago,  and  say  he  Avould  gladly  have 
received  consecration  from  them.' 

"  '  No  doubt,  my  friend,  no  doubt,'  said  madame, 
becoming  a  little  excited, '  but  the  priests  of  to-day 
cannot  be  consecrated  by  popes  who  lived  a  thou- 
sand years  ago.  I  would  ask,  are  any  of  you  will- 
ing to  return  to  the  popes  of  to-day  ?  We  used  to 
hear  your  Bishop  Laud  well  spoken  of,  and  were 
not  without  hopes  of  you  all  at  that  time.  It  was 
once  reported  he  had  been  offered  a  Cardinal's  hat 
■ — of  course  on  conditions.  Have  you  advanced  a 
little  nearer  since  then  ?  Are  you  coming  back  to 
the  fold  in  earnest  ?' 

"  '  To  the  Pope  who  lives  now,  madame  ?'  1 
0 


9 3  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

said  ;  '  I  do  not  think  the  archbishop  or  our  chap 
lain  ever  dreamed  of  that.  Our  chaplain  was  always 
hoping  the  Church  of  Rome  would  come  back  to- 
wards us.1 

"  '  Towards  you  !  towards  heresy,  my  child  \ 
You  speak  of  what  you  know  not,'  she  replied, 
waving  her  hands  rapidly,  as  if  to  brush  away  a 
swarm  of  insects.  'Any  one  of  us,  our  priests, 
His  Holiness  himself  may  indeed  move  towards  a 
Protestant,  as  the  good  Shepherd  towards  the  wan- 
dering sheep,  to  bring  it  back.  But  the  Church, 
never !  She  is  the  rock,  my  friend,  on  which  the 
world  rests.  She  moves  not.  The  world  moves, 
che  sand  shifts,  the  sea  beats,  but  she  is  the  rock.' 

"  '  But,  madame,  pardon  me,'  I  said,  '  the  chap- 
lain thought  the  Church  of  Rome  had  changed. 
There  is  a  Rock,  he  thought,  on  which  all  the 
Churches  rest.  All  we  want  (he  said)  is  to  remove 
some  accumulations  with  wnich  the  lapse  of  time 
has  encumbered  this  rock  ;  and  then  he  thought  we 
might  all  be  one  again.' 

"  '  My  child,'  she  replied,  '  the  Church  does  not 
move ;  but  most  surely  she  builds,  or  rather  she 
grows.  She  is  living,  and  all  things  living  grow. 
She  is  as  one  of  our  great  cathedrals.  Age  after 
age  adds  to  its  towers,  its  chapels,  its  side  aisles. 
Heart  after  heart  adds  to  its  shrines.  But  it  is  still 
one  cathedral.  We  do  not  need  to  hunt  out  obso- 
lete books  to  see  if  we  are  building  according  to  the 
oldest  rules.  New  needs  create  new  rules.  When 
we  want  to  know  what  to  believe,  we  do  not  need 
t")  send  for  antiquaries.     We  do  not  need  to  grope 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   i  F  THE  SEA. 


99 


bactc  among  the  for  off  centuries  and  see  what  those 
excellent  popes,  of  whom  your  good  chaplain  spoke, 
said  a  thousand  years  ago.  We  have  a  living  Pope 
now.  He  is  the  vicar  of  Christ ;  we  listen,  he  can 
speak,  he  can  teach,  he  can  command.  We  do  not 
need  to  go  to  ancient  worm-eaten  books  for  our 
creeds.  They  were  living  voices  in  their  age,  and 
spoke  for  it.  We  have  the  living  voice  for  our  age, 
and  we  listen  to  it.  Tell  rue  then,  quite  simply; 
are  your  English  people,  or  any  of  them,  coming 
back  to  the  true  ancient  Catholic  Church  ?' 

"  '  Many  among  us  have  sighed  for  a  union  with 
the  rest  of  Catholic  Christendom,'  I  said.  '  Our 
chaplain  used  to  speak  much  of  it.  We  are  not  of 
the  sects,  he  said,  who  have  overrun  Germany  and 
other  Protestant  countries,  Lutheran,  Zwinglian., 
Calvinist,  Huguenot.  He  used  to  speak  much  of 
their  errors.  One  or  two  little  concessions,  he  said, 
and  all  might  be  one  again.' 

"  '  Concessions  from  us,  my  child  !'  said  madame, 
shaking  her  head.  '  What  would  you  have  ?  The 
doors  of  the  Church  stand  open.  You  have  but  to 
enter.  The  arms  of  His  Holiness  are  outstretched. 
You  have  but  to  fly  to  them.  You  have  pardon, 
welcome,  reconciliation,  not  a  reproach  for  the  past, 
all  forgotten  !     What  would  you  have  more  ?' 

"  '  Madame,'  I  said,  '  we  think  we  are  in  the  Ca- 
tholic Church.' 

" '  Ah,  my  charming  child,'  she  said,  smiling  com- 
passionately. '  I  see  it  is  in  vain  to  speak  of  these 
things.  In  your  island  you  have  the  ideas  of  an 
island.     You  have  so  many  things  to  yourselves 


,oo  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 

that  you  think  you  may  have  everything  to  your 
selves.  You  have  your  constitution,  your  seas, 
your  mountains  and  plains,  your  clouds,  your  skies, 
all  to  yourselves.  But  the  Catholic  Church  !  Ah, 
my  child,  that  is  impossible  ;  you  are  a  remarl  able 
people,  and  have  remarkable  ambitions.  But  fhere 
are  things  possible  and  things  impossible.  You 
cannot  have  a  Catholic  Church  all  to  yours'  Ives. 
It  is  not  a  thing  possible.' 

"  Then  the  slight  excitement  there  had  be^sn  ia 
her  manner  passed  away,  and  she  said, — 

"  '  My  child,  we  will  not  perplex  ourselves  much 
with  these  difficult  things.  I  have  a  very  holy 
cousin  among  the  ladies  of  Port  Royal.  Perhaps 
one  day  I  may  introduce  her  to  you.  For  women, 
happily,  if  they  can  help  to  welcome  ear  h  other 
within  the  sacred  doors,  have  not  the  keys*  to  close 
them.  And  with  regard  to  thy  mother,  all  this  has 
nothing  to  do.  Heavenly  beings  are  not  s  «bject  to 
earthly  laws.  And  that  among  the  heathen  there 
were  such,  my  director  assures  me  there  is  mo  doubt. 
I  trust  even  there  were  such  amonsf  the  Huguenots  : 
for  some  of  my  ancestors  were  unhappily  "  gentle- 
men of  the  religion.'  " 

"  '  Did  any  of  them  suffer  in  the  St.  Bartholo- 
mew ?'  I  asked  ;  'and  do  you  know  if  »'»y  among 
them  took  refuse  in  London  ?' 

"  '  I  have  heard  there  is  one  ot  their  descendants 
established  in  London  as  a  physician,'  she  -*aid. 

"  '  I  know  him,  madame,'  I  said.  And  it  made 
me  feel  a  kind  of  kindred  with  the  gentle  Fiench 
lady  that  a  connection  of  hers,  however  remote, 
riad  rnar^°'1  01r»  a 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  lot 

cs  But  this  evening,  when  Barbo,  the  waiting- 
woman,  was  arranging  my  hair,  and  1  was  consol 
ing  her  with  telling  her  some  of  Dr.  Owen's 
thoughts  about  sorrow  (for  Barbe  has  lately  lost 
her  mother,  and  is  a  destitute  orphan,  and  has  had 
a  sorrowful  life  in  many  ways),  she  said,  in  a  choked 
voice, — 

"  '  Ah,  if  mademoiselle  could  only  hear  the  min- 
ister at  the  preche.  For  the  people  of  the  religion 
are  allowed  to  meet  again,  in  a  quiet  way.' 

"  '  You  belong  to  the  religion  then,  Barbe  ?' 

"  '  Without  doubt,  mademoiselle.  Have  not  my 
kindred  fought  and  been  massacred  for  it  these 
hundred  years  ?  This  is  what  made  me  so  glad 
when  the  chevalier  engaged  me  to  wait  on  made- 
moiselle.  I  knew  at  once  it  was  the  good  hand  of 
God.  For  the  English  are  also  of  the  religion,  my 
father  said  ;  and  although  they  have  sometimes  per- 
plexed our  people  by  promising  much  and  doing 
little  for  us,  we  always  knew  these  were  mere  Court 
intrigues  ;  and  that  in  heart  we  were  one.' 

"  '  But,  Barbe,'  I  said,  with  some  hesitation,  wish- 
ing not  to  mislead,  nor  yet  to  pain  her,  '  we  are  not 
exactly  of  "  the  religion."  The  English  Church  is 
not  like  yours.  We  are  not  Calvinists.  We  have 
bishops  and  a  liturgy,  and  have  changed  as  little  as 
possible  the  old  Catholic  ritual.' 

"  '  Ah,  what  does  that  matter  ?'  replied  Barbe, 
unmoved  ;  '  to  each  country  its  customs  !  These 
little  distinctions  are  affairs  of  the  clergy.  They 
are  not  for  such  as  me.  And  I  have  known  from 
my  infancy  that  the  English  are  Protestant.     They 

Q* 


ro2  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

do  not  acknowledge  the  Pope  nor  the  Mass.  They 
do  not  burn  for  these  things ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
have  heen  burned  for  them.  They  may,  indeed, 
have  their  little  eccentricities,'  continued  Barbe 
charitably.  '  Bishops  even,  and  a  Book  of  Pray 
ers  !  Do  they  not  live  on  an  island  ?  Which  in 
itself  is  an  eccentricity.  But  they  are  Protestant. 
I  have  always  known  it,  and  now  I  see  it.  Made- 
moiselle does  not  go  to  Confession ;  she  does  not 
adore  the  Host.  Every  morning  and  evening  she 
reads  her  Bible  in  her  own  language.  She  consoles 
me  with  the  excellent  words  of  a  Protestant  minis- 
ter, as  good  as  wre  hear  at  our  preche.  Therefore 
mademoiselle  is  doubtless  of  "  the  religion."  And 
to  me  it  is  a  privilege,  for  which  I  thank  God  day 
and  night,  that  I  am  called  to  wait  on  her.' 

"  It  is  very  strange  how  differently  things  look 
a  little  way  off.  Neither  Barbe  nor  Madame  la 
Mothe  seem  able  even  to  perceive  the  differences 
which  to  us  have  been  so  important.  In  spite  of 
all  I  can  say,  Madame  la  Mothe  regards  me  as  out- 
side ;  '  very  good,  very  dear,  very  charming,'  but 
still  outside  ;  as  a  heretic,  as  a  Huguenot.  And  in 
spite  of  all  I  can  say,  Barbe  regards  me  as  within  ; 
of  her  community,  of  her  Church,  of  her  religion, 
of  her  family  ;  as  a  sister. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ? 

"  We  offer  our  hands  courteously  to  all  the  ancient 
Churches.  And  they  turn  scornfully  away,  saying, 
On  your  knees,  as  penitents,  we  will  veceive  you, 
but,  otherwise,  never !  You  are  outcasts,  prodigals, 
in  the  '  frr  country.' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  ,oj 

"  Oil  the  other  hand  we  turn  away  from  the  new 
Protestant  Churches  saying,  In  some  respects  yon 
are  right,  but  you  have  lost  the  ancient  priesthood 
you  have  rent  yourselves  from  Catholic  antiquity. 
And  nevertheless  they  persist  in  embracing  us,  in 
calling  us  kindred,  sisters  and  brethren. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ? 

"  In  England  it  was  in  comparison  easy.  "We  had 
things  to  ourselves.  Across  the  seas,  where  these 
foreign  Churches  loomed  on  our  vision  in  rockv 
masses  through  the  mist  and  distance,  it  was  easy 
to  maintain  our  theory  about  them.  But  here, 
where  we  are  amidst  them,  and  Churches  break 
into  communities  of  men  and  women,  it  is  difficult 
to  continue  stretching  out  peaceable  hands  to  those 
who  scornfully  pass  by  on  the  other  side,  and  not 
to  clasp  in  brotherly  greeting  the  hands  held  out  in 
welcome  to  us.  Barbe  and  her  Huguenots  (since  they 
have  will  it  so)  I  must  then  acknowledge  as  kindred. 

"  Yet  whether  they  heed  or  not,  I  must  >nd  will 
also  honour  as  our  brethren  every  Catholic  who  is 
just,  and  good,  and  Christian.  Their  treasures  of 
goodness  are  ours,  in  as  far  as  they  are  our  delight 
and  our  example,  and  none  can  deprive  us  of  the 
possession. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  if  the  English  Church  shuts  her 
heart  against  the  Protestants  on  one  side,  and  the 
Roman  Church  on  the  other,  her  fold  becomes  the 
narrowest  corner  of  Christendom  a  Christian  can 
creep  into.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  she  stretches  out 
her  hands  to  both,  bound  on  one  side  by  her  creeds 
and  liturgies  to  the  Catholic  past,  and  on  the  other 


104 


ON  BOTH  kIDES   OF   THE  SEA 


free  to  receive  all  the  truth  yet  to  be  revealed  m 
the  free  Word  of  God,  what  field  on  earth  so  fer- 
tile and  so  free,  enriched  by  all  the  past,  free  to  all 
the  future  ? 

"  It  is  those  who  exclude  who  are  really  the  ex- 
cluded. The  more  our  hearts  can  find  to  love  and 
honour,  the  richer  they  are. 

"  The  outlaws,  I  think,  in  God's  Church  are  not 
those  who  are  cast  out  of  the  synagogue,  but  those 
who  cast  others  out." 

olive's  recollections. 

At  five  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  10th  of  July, 
1049,  the  trumpets  sounded  again  in  London  sti  jets, 
not  for  a  soldier's  funeral,  and  not  for  a  triumph, 
but  for  an  army  going  forth  to  war.  To  battle  with 
a  whole  nation  in  insurrection,  or  rather  in  tumult ; 
every  man's  hand  practised  in  cruel  and  treacherous 
warfare  against  every  man  through  those  blood 
stained  eight  years  since  the  massacre  of  1641,  now 
all  combined  against  the  Commonwealth  and  Oliver. 

"With  hopeful  hearts  they  went  forth  with  Crom- 
well, as  Lord-Lieutenant. 

It  was  the  first  time  General  Cromwell  had  taken 
on  him  much  show  of  outward  state.  But  men  said 
it  seemed  to  fit  him  well,  as  I  think  state  must  whi<  h 
grows  out  of  power,  like  the  pomp  of  summer  leaves 
around  massive  trunks.  He  rode  in  a  coach  drawn 
by  six  gray  Flanders  mares ;  many  coaches  in  his 
train  ;  his  life-guard  eighty  gentlemen,  none  of  them 
below  the  rank  of  an  esquire;  the  trumpets  echoing 
through  the  city,  stirring  the  hearts  of  the  Ironsides, 
who,  when  he  led  them,  "  thank  God,  were  nev**r 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  10, 

beaten."  His  colours  were  white,  as  of  one  who 
made  war  to  ensure  peace ;  who  was  going  not  as 
a  soldier  only  and  a  conqueror,  but  as  a  imlei  and 
judge  to  bring  order  into  chaos,  and  law  into  law- 
lessness.    This  state  beseemed  the  occasion  well. 

The  armv  went  with  a  g;ood  heart,  and  in  unshaken 
trust  that  he  was  leading  them  to  a  good  work,  and 
that  it  was  "  necessary  and  therefore  to  be  done ;" 
the  most  part,  like  Roger,  proud  of*  being  the  men 
who  had  never  mistrusted  him  ;  a  fewr,  like  Job 
Forster,  all  the  more  eager  in  their  loyalty  for  the 
shame  of  having  once  mistrusted;  and  many,  like 
the  chief  himself,  all  the  stronger  in  this  and  every 
work  for  sharing  his  conviction  that  all  earthly  work 
(to  say  nothing  of  pleasure),  compared  with  the  in- 
ward spiritual  work  from  which  it  drew  its  strength, 
was  only  done  "  upon  the  Bye." 

But  we  women  who  watched  them  go,  looked  on 
them  with  anxious  hearts.  They  w^ere  plunging 
into  a  chaos,  which  for  hundreds  of  years  no  man 
had  been  able  to  bmig  into  light  and  order.  What 
they  wrould  do  there  seemed  doubtful;  who  would 
return  thence  terribly  uncertain ;  that  all  could 
never  rt  turn  terribly  certain. 

Poor  Bridget  Cromwell,  then  young  Mistress  Ire- 
ton,  and  many  beside,  could  the  veil  have  been  lifted, 
would,  instead  of  festive  white  banners,  have  seen 
funeral  draperies,  and  for  the  call  to  arms  would 
have  heard  the  trumpets  peal  for  the  soldier's  knell. 

Mistress  Lucy  Hutchinson  needed  not  to  speak 
scornfully  of  the  fine  clothing  which  became  Gen- 
eral Cromwell's  daughters  "as  little  as  scarlet  an 


io6  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

ape."  They  did  not  wear  it  long.  And  indeed 
holiday  garments  at  the  longest  are  scarcely  wore 
long  enough  in  this  world  for  it  to  be  worth  while 
that  any  should  envy  or  flout  at  them. 

For  the  rest,  the  Lord-Lieutenant's  life  was  no 
holiday ;  nor  did  he  or  his  Ironsides  look  that  il 
should  be.  Not  for  merry-making  or  idling,  he 
thought,  hut  "for  public  services  a  man  is  born."  11 
victories  and  successes  came,  "  these  things  are  to 
strengthen  our  faith  and  love,"  he  said,  "  against 
more  difficult  times." 

We  are  always  in  a  warfare,  he  believed ;  the 
scenes  change,  but  the  campaign  ends  not 

As  Mr.  John  Milton  wrote  of  him  :  "  In  a  short 
time  he  almost  surpassed  the  greatest  generals  in 
the  magnitude  and  rapidity  of  his  achievements. 
Nor  is  this  surprising,' for  he  was  a  soldier  disci- 
plined to  perfection  in  the  knowledge  of  himself. 
He  had  either  extinguished,  or  by  habit  had  iearned 
to  subdue,  the  whole  host  of  vain  hopes,  fears,  and 
passions  which  infest  the  soul ;  so  that  on  the  first 
day  he  took  the  field  against  the  external  enemy  he 
was  a  veteran  in  arms,  consummately  practised  in 
the  toils  and  exigencies  of  war." 

The  portion  of  the  army  which  went  before  the 
General  gained  a  victory  in  July  over  the  Marquis 
of  Ormond,  who  was  besieging  Dublin  ;  -o  thai 
when  Oliver  landed,  with  hat  in  hand,  and  spoke 
gently  to  the  people  in  Dublin,  and  tuld  them  lie 
wished,  by  God's  providence,  to  spread  the  gospel 
among  them,  to  restore  all  to  their  just  rights  and 
liberties,  and  the  bleeding  nation  to  happiness,  man  j 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA.  107 

hundreds  welcomed  hiin  and  vowed  they  would  live 
and  die  with  him. 

Three  letters  are  preserved  among  my  old  Diaries 
which  came  to  us  during  that  Irish  Campaign.  One 
was  from  Job  not  long  after  the  storming  of  Wex- 
ford. 

"We  have  had  to  do  '  terrible  things  in  righteous- 
ram,'  "  he  wrote.  "  For  years  the  land  has  been 
like  one  of  the  wicked  old  Roman  wild-beast  shows 
in  the  Book  of  Martyrs ;  the  wild  beasts  first  tearir.  ■» 
the  Christians  in  pieces,  and  then  in  their  fury  fall 
ing  on  each  other.  This  the  General  is  steadfastly 
minded  shall  not  any  longer  be.  Whereon  all  the 
people  of  the  land  have  for  a  time  given  over  rend- 
ing each  other  in  pieces,  to  fall  on  us.  We,  how 
ever,  praised  be  God,  are  not,  like  the  ancient  Chris- 
tians, thrown  to  the  wild  beasts  uuarmed,  nor  un- 
trained in  nVhtino;.  For  which  cause,  and  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  the  wild  beasts  have  not  slaugh- 
tered us,  but  we  not  a  few  of  them.  And  the  rest 
we  hope  in  good  time  to  send  to  their  dens,  that  the 
peaceable- folk  may  have  rest,  may  till  their  fields  in 
peace,  and  may  have  freedom  to  worship  God. 

"  For  peaceable  folk  there  are  in  the  land.  It  has 
lightened  my  heart  to  find  that  the  natives  are  not  all 
savages,  like  the  Irish  women  with  knives  we  found 
on  the  field  at  Xaseby.  Many  of  the  mare  kindly  crea- 
tures, well  understand  fair  treatment,  and  generously 
return  it.  Their  countenances  are  many  of  them  open, 
and  their  understandings  seem  quick,  to  a  marvel, 
for  po)r  folks  who  have  been  brought  up  without 
knowing  either  the  English  tongue  or  the  Christ  iau 


io8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

religion.  It  seems  as  if  they  had  been  seduced  with 
evil  reports  of  us ;  for  at  first  they  ran  away,  and 
hid  themselves  in  caves  and  dens  of  the  earth,  when- 
ever we  came  near  them.  But  since  they  under- 
stand that  we  are  no  persecutors  nor  plunderers, 
the  common  people  begin  to  come  freely  to  Ihft 
camp,  and  bring  us  meat  for  man  and  horse,  foi 
which  we  pay. 

"  The  Lord-General  is  very  stern  against  all  mis- 
use or  plundering  of  these  poor  folk.  Two  of  ours 
have  been  hanged  for  dealing  ill  with  them ;  which 
was  i  wonderful  sight  to  the  natives,  and  hath  en- 
soumged  them  much. 

"  The  storm  of  Tredah  was  no  child's-play.  The 
Lord-General  offered  the  garrison  (mostly  English- 
mer.)  mercy.  '  But  if  upon  refusing  this  offer,  what 
you  like  not  befalls  you,'  he  said,  '  you  will  know 
Avh'  m  to  blame.'  They  refused  mercy.  Where- 
fore, after  winning  the  place  by  some  hard  fighting 
(bong  once  driven  back,  a  thing  we  were  not  used 
to),  the  garrison  had  justice.  They  were  three 
thousand.  Scarce  any  of  them  survived  to  dispute 
on.  whom  to  lay  the  blame.  It  was  not  so  bad  as 
Berne  of  the  things  Joshua  had  to  do  ;  the  judgment 
not  going  beyond  the  fighting  men.  Bjt  praised 
be  God,  that  for  the  most  part  it  pleases  Him  to 
work  his  terrible  things  by  the  stormy  winds,  the 
earthquakes,  and  pestilence,  and  not  by  the  hands 
of  men, 

"The  General  saith,  'I  trust  this  bitterness  will 
save  much  effusion  of  blood,  through  the  goodnes* 
of  God.' 


OX   BOTH   SIDES    OF   THE  SEA.  109 

"And  truly,  after  Tredah,  few  garrisons  waited 
foi  our  summons,  and  fewer  still  refused  the  Lord- 
General's  mercy.  We  had  but  one  piece  of  storm- 
ing work  since  then.  That  was  at  Wexford.  There 
was  some  confusion  ;  the  Lord-General  wishing  to 
Bare  the  town  from  plunder.  His  summons  by 
words  scorned,  he  summoned  them  by  batteries. 
Then  the  captain  would  have  yielded  the  castle, 
and  the  enemy  left  the  walls  of  the  town,  whereon 
our  men  got  the  storming  ladders,  and  scaled  the 
walls.  In  the  market-place  there  was  again  a  hot 
tight,  and  near  two  thousand  of  the  enemy  fell ; 
some  were  drowned  in  trying  to  escape  in  boats  by 
the  harbour.  A  notable  judgment,  we  thought,  for 
some  eight  score  of  poor  Protestants,  who  had  been 
sent  out  not  long  before  in  a  ship  Into  the  harbour, 
then  the  ship  scuttled,  and  they  left  to  sink  ;  also 
for  other  Protestants  shut  up  in  one  of  their  mass- 
houses,  and  famished  to  death. 

"  Since  then  the  enemy  has  been  scattered  before 
us  like  dust  before  the  whirlwind.  Their  strong 
places  yield  to  our  summons  one  by  one.  Please 
God  we  may  have  no  more  ot  the  work  of  the 
whirlwind  and  pestilence  to  do!  For  these  poor 
towns,  on  the  day  after  the  storming,  with  the 
blackened  walls  and  the  empty  houses,  from  which 
the  poor  foolish  folks  have  fled  away  into  the  fields, 
are  a  sad  desolation  to  behold.  It  hath  cast  some 
little  light  on  the  slaying  of  the  women  and  little 
ones  in  tht  Bible  ;  in  that  when  the  men  are  slain, 
the  lot  of  the  widows,  and  orphaned  little  ones  is 
««re  to  see.  But  war  is  not  peace  ;  and  they  who 
10 


,lo  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

try  to  mix  up  the  two,  most  times  but  put  ofi  the 
peace,  and  in  the  end  make  the  war  more  cruel. 
The  surge(  n  who  laid  down  his  knife  at  every  groan 
of  the  patient,  would  make  a  sorry  cure.  The  Lord- 
General  has  great  hope  of  yet  bringing  the  land  to 
be  a  place  for  honest  and  godly  men  and  women  to 
live  in,  which,  they  say,  it  hath  not  been  since  the 
memory  of  man.  But  one  thing  will  by  no  means 
be  suffered;  and  that  is  the  Mass.  Some  say  this 
is  cruel  mercy  (since  the  deluded  people  hang  their 
salvation  on  it) ;  and  that  it  is  contrary  to  the  Lord- 
General's  promises  of  freedom  of  conscience.  But 
liberty  to  think  is  one  thing,  and  liberty  to  do  an- 
other. The  poor  folk  may  believe  what  lies  they 
will ;  but  that  they  should  be  suffered  to  act  false- 
hoods in  the  sight  of  a  godly  Church  and  army  is 
an  abomination  not  to  be  borne." 

The  letter  from  Roger  came  later.  In  it  he  wrote 
much  of  the  Lord-Lientenant.  It  was  dated  Febru- 
ary, from  Fethard  in  Tipperary,  which,  with  Cashe* 
and  other  towns  in  the  west,  had  lately  come  undei 
the  Commonwealth. 

"  Six  months   since,"  Roger  wrote,  "  only  three 
cities  were  for   the   Commonwealth — Dublin,  Bel 
fast,  and  Deny,  and  Deny  besieged.     The  Lord 
Lieutenant  stormed  two,  after  mercy  refused,  with 
severity  of  the  severest — Tredah  and  Wexford 
since  which,  none  but  have  yielded  in  time  to  avoid 
the  same  fate  :   and  in  a  little  while,  we  have  good 
hopes,  if  matters  go  on  as  they  have,  not  a  town  or 
a  stronghold  will  be   left   in  the   enemy's   hands. 
The  mise  y  and  desolation  of  the  country  is  a*re 


ON  BOTH  BIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  \\\ 

indeed  ;  but  it  has  not  been  the  fruit  of  only  these 
six  months'  war.  Scarce,  I  t*ink,  of  the  terrible 
eight  years'  tumult  since  the  massacre  of  1641  ; 
rather,  perhaps,  of  no  one  can  say  how  many  cen- 
turies of  misrule,  or  no  rule  at  all. 

"  The  people  united  at  first  against  us ;  loyal 
Catholics  of  the  Pale,  disloyal  Catholics  beyond 
the  Pale,  Presbyterian  Royalists,  and  Papists  of 
the  massacre.  Now  their  union  seems  crumbling 
to  pieces  again,  being  founded,  not  on  love,  but  on 
hatred  ;  and  out  of  hatred  no  permanent  bonds  can, 
I  think,  be  woven,  even  as  my  Lord-Lieutenant  told 
them  last  month  in  his  Declaration. 

"  Divers  priests  met  at  the  Seven  Churches  of 
Clonmacnoise,  on  the  Shannon,  to  patch  up  this 
crumbling  '  union'  against  us,  if  they  could.  Upon 
this  was  issued  the  'Declaration  for  the  Undeceiv- 
ing of  Deluded  and  Seduced  People  ;'  wherein  the 
Lord-Lieutenant  told  these  clergymen  many  things 
which,  perhaps,  they  thought  little  to  the  point, 
but  which  to  him  (and  to  us)  are  the  root  of  all 
things,  and  therefore  must  naturally  be  to  the  point, 
especially  when  it  is  a  question  of  uprooting. 

"  '  The  terms  "  laity  and  clergy,"  '  he  said,  '  are 
dividing,  anti-christian  terms. 

" '  Ab  initio  non  fail  sic.  The  most  pure  and 
primitive  times,  as  they  best  know  what  true  union 
is,  so  in  all  addresses  unto  the  churches,  not  one 
word  of  this. 

" '  The  members  of  the  churches  are  styled 
"brethren,"  and  saints  of  '.he  same  household  of 
faith  ;    and  although  they  nad  orders  and  distino- 


,12  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  i'FA. 

tions  among  them  for  administrating  of  ordinances 
(of  a  far  different  use  and  character  from  yours)_ 
yet  it  nowhere  occasioned  them  to  say  contemptim, 
and  by  way  of  lessening  or  contra-distinguishing, 
"  laity  and  clergy."  It  was  your  pride  that  begat 
this  expression  ;  and  ye  (as  the  Scribes  and  Phari- 
sees of  old  did  by  their  "  laity  ")  keep  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  law  from  them,  and  then  be  able  in 
their  pride  to  say,  "  This  people  that  know  not  the 
law  are  cursed." 

"  '  Only  consider  what  the  Master  of  the  apostles 
said  to  them — "  So  shall  it  not  be  among  you  :  who- 
ever will  be  chief  shall  be  servant  of  all."  For  He 
Himself  came  "  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  to  minis- 
ter." And  by  this  he  that  runs  may  read  of  what 
tribe  you  are. 

"  '  This  principle,  that  people  are  for  kings  and 
churches,  and  saints  are  for  the  pope  and  church- 
men, begins  to  be  exploded. 

"  '  Here  is  your  argument.  "  The  design  is  to 
extirpate  the  Catholic  religion.  But  this  is  not  to 
be  done  but  by  the  massacring  and  banishing  or 
otherwise  destroying  the  Catholic  inhabitants  ;  eigo, 
it  is  designed  to  massacre,  banish,  and  destroy  the 
Catholic  inhabitants."  This  argument  doth  agree 
well  with  your  principles  and  practice,  you  having 
chiefly  made  use  of  fire  and  sword  in  all  the  changes 
in  religion  you  have  made  in  the  world.  But  I  say 
there  may  be  found  out  another  means  than  mas- 
sacring, destroying,  and  banishing,  to  wit,  the  Word 
of  God,  which  is  able  to  convert. 

" '  Therefore  in  these  words  your  false  and  twisted 


OX  BOTH    SIDES   OF    THE  SEA. 


»U 


dealing  may  be  discovered.  Good  now  !  Give  us 
an  instance  of  one  man,  since  my  coming  into  Ire- 
land, not  in  arms,  massacred,  destroyed,  or  banished, 
concerning  the  massacre  or  destruction  of  whom 
justice  hath  not  been  done  or  endeavoured  to  be 
done. 

"  '  If  ever  men  were  engaged  in  a  righteous  cause 
in  the  world,  this  will  scarce  be  second  to  it.  We 
are  come  to  ask  an  account  of  innocent  blood  that 
hath  been  shed.  "We  come  to  break  the  power  of 
a  company  of  lawless  rebels,  who,  having  cast  otf 
the  authority  of  England,  live  as  enemies  to  human 
society.  We  come,  by  the  assistance  of  God,  to 
hold  forth  and  maintain  the  lustre  and  glory  of 
English  liberty  ;  wherein  the  people  of  Ireland,  if 
they  listen  not  to  seducers  such  as  you  are,  may 
equally  participate  in  all  benefits ;  to  use  their 
liberty  and  fortune  equally  with  Englishmen,  if 
they  keep  out  of  arms.' 

"  Then  the  Lord-Lieutenant  offers  peace,  their 
estates,  and  fortunes,  to  all  except  the  leading  con- 
trivers of  the  Rebellion,  to  soldiers,  nobles,  gentle 
and  simple,  who  will  lay  down  arms  and  live  peace- 
ably and  honestly  ;  and  promises  justice  on  all  sol- 
diers or  others  who  insolently  oppress  them. 

"  The  which  (Roger  wrote)  we  have  hopes  the 
poople  will  listen  to ;  and  so,  some  ringleaders 
being  banished,  some  of  the  murderers  of  the  mas- 
sacre of  1G41  having  after  fair  trial  been  hanged, 
this  terrible  war  end  in  order  and  blessing  to  all 
who  will  be  orderly.  It  hath  been  no  beating  the 
air, this  campaign  in  Ireland.  Of  courage  there  ii 
10* 


1I4.  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA. 

no  lack  among  this  people.  And  many  of  ours 
have  suffered  by  the  country  sickness,  which,  with 
the  famine,  came  in  the  train  of  such  wild  lawless- 
ness and  fierce  factions  as  have  long  desolated  this 
unhappy  country.  The  Lord-Lieutenant  himself 
has  been  but  crazy  in  health,  and  has  been  laid  up 
more  than  once .  But,  as  he  said,  God's  worst  is  bel- 
ter than  the  world's  best.  He  writes  to  the  Parlia- 
ment that  he  hopes  before  long  to  see  Ireland  no 
burden  to  England,  but  a  profitable  part  of  the 
Commonwealth.  And  we  are  not  without  hope 
that  our  rough  work  here  has  ploughed  up  the  land 
for  better  harvests  than  it  has  yet  yielded." 

Then,  some  weeks  later,  another  letter  from  Job 
to  Rachel,  mentioning  the  storming  of  Clonmel 
on  the  10th  of  May,  1650,  after  many  hours  fiery 
fighting. 

"  Against  the  stoutest  enemy,"  Job  writes,  "  we 
have  yet  encountered  in  Ireland.  Not  that  the 
Irish  are  enemies  to  be  despised.  Their  faculty  for 
fio-htincr  seems  of  the  hiirhest,  indeed  it  seems  their 
taste,  and  the  thing  they  like  best,  since  they  are 
always  ready,  it  seems,  to  be  at  it  at  the  shortest 
notice,  and  for  the  smallest  cause,  or  none — which 
is  not  the  way  of  the  Ironsides.  We  are  peaceful 
quiet  men,  as  thou  knowest,  and  went  into  the 
fiixhtiuo:,  not  for  the  love  of  it,  but  for  the  love  of 
what  they  would  not  let  us  have  without  fight- 
ins;.     Which  is  a  difference. 

"  It  is  said  our  Oliver  hath  permitted  such  officers 
as  lay  lowr  their  arms  to  gather  regiments  of  such 
a»  will  joir  them  and  to  cross  the  seas  to  Spain  or 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    1HE  SEA.  \\t 

France,  there  to  fight  for  whoever  will  pay  them, 
They  say  45,000  of  these  Kurisees  are  going. 
Which  seems  to  me  pretty  nearly  the  worst  thing 
human  beings  can  do.  Worse  than  slavery,  inas- 
much as  it  must  be  worse  for  men  to  sell  themselves 
than  to  be  bought  and  sold.  Who  can  say  what 
such  courses  may  end  in  ?  For  the  Almighty  does 
not  buy  his  soldiers ;  He  has  no  mercenaries.  But 
the  devil  has.  And  he  pays ;  though  not  as  he  prom 
ises.  However,  no  doubt  the  country  is  better  with- 
out them." 

We  thought  again  often  of  Job's  words,  when 
three  regiments  of  these  "Kurisees"  were  found, 
in  after  years,  massacring  and  torturing  the  peace- 
able Vaudois  peasants  in  their  valleys,  in  the  pay  of 
the  Duke  of  Savoy,  doing  some  of  the  direst  devil's 
work  that  perhaps  was  ever  done  on  this  earth. 

This  letter  reached  us  at  Netherby,  where  about 
this  time  our  little  Dorothea  was  born. 

I  remember  well  how  it  cheered  my  heart  as  I  sate 
at  my  open  chamber-window  in  some  of  the  soft 
days  which  now  and  then  break  the  sharpness  of 
our  early  spring,  and  are  as  like  a  foretaste  of  heaven 
as  anything  may  be,  to  think  that  perchance  the 
lone  night  of  tumult  and  disorder  which  had  hung 
over  that  distracted  land  was  passing  away,  and  a 
new  kingdom  was  arising  of  liberty  and  righteous- 
ness and  truth. 

Our  little  Magdalen  (Maidie)  playing  at  my  feet 
with  the  first  snoAvdrops  she  had  ever  seen,  and  the 
baby  Dorothea  (Dolly)  asleep  on  a  pillow  on  my 
knee.    Spr  tog-time,  I  thought,  for  the  earth,  and  for 


If6  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

i.liese  darling  j  and  for  the  nations.     When  lift  it 
given,  who  minds  through  what  throes  or  storms  ? 

The  old  home  was  much  changed  by  the  absence 
of  Aunt  Dorothy.  I  missed  the  foi*ce  of  her  deter- 
mined will  and  her  sharp  definite  beliefs  and  dis- 
beliefs. The  music  seemed  too  much  all  treble.  I 
nissed  the  decisive  discords  which  give  force  and 
meaning  to  the  harmonies.  There  seemed  no  one  to 
waken  us  up  with  a  hearty  vigorous  No  ! 

In  the  village,  too,  her  firm  straight-forward 
counsels  and  rebukes  were  missed.  Aunt  Gretel  and 
my  father  seemed  to  have  grown  quieter  and  older. 
Forcible,  truthful,  militant  characters  like  Aunt 
Dorothy's  make  a  healthy  stir  about  them,  which 
tends  to  keep  youth  alive  in  themselves  and  those 
around.  They  are  as  necessary  in  this  world,  where 
so  much  has  to  be  fought  against,  as  the  frosts 
which  destroy  the  destructive  grubs.  The  foes  of 
our  foes  are  often  our  best  friends ;  and  none  the 
less  because  they  are  the  foes  of  our  indolent  peace. 

My  father  had  been,  moreover,  not  a  little 
shaken  by  the  loss  of  his  arm.  He  had  withdrawn 
from  war  and  politics,  and  had  thrown  himself  with 
new  vigor  into  his  old  pursuits,  investigating  the 
earth  and  sky  and  all  things  therein. 

Bat  the  more  we  stay  together  the  more  needful 
we  all  grew  to  each  other.  Maidie  especially  so 
twiued  herself  around  her  grandfather's  heart,  that 
we  mad"  a  compact  to  spend  the  larger  portion  oi 
the  yea'  i  henceforth  together;  we  with  them  in  the 
summe  &  at  Netherby,  and  they  with  us  in  the 
vintr  s   in    London.     In  this  way,   moreover,  my 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


117 


fathei  would  be  able  to  attend  the  meetings  and 
weekly  lecturings  of  the  association  of  gentlemen^ 
for  the  prosecution  of  the  "  new  experimental  phil- 
osophy," which  met  during  the  Commonwealth 
chiefly  at  Gresham  College,  and  was,  after  the  Res- 
toration, incorporated  as  the  Royal  Society. 

Aunt  Dorothy's  absence,  with  the  cause  of  it, 
was  much  on  my  mind  during  those  quiet  spring 
days.  Every  error,  she  thought,  had  seeds  of  death 
in  it,  and  carried  out  to  i+s  consequences  must  lead 
to  death ;  therefore  no  error  ought  to  be  tolerated. 
This  perplexed  me  much,  until  I  learned  a  lesson 
from  the  old  beech  tree  outside  my  chamber  win- 
dow. 

"  Aunt  Gretel,"  I  said  one  day  as  we  were  sit- 
ting there  quietly  with  the  babes,  "I  have  learned  a 
lesson  which  makes  me  glad." 

"  From  whom  ?  "  said  she. 

"  From  that  old  beach-tree,"  I  said.  "  The  old  dead 
leaves  are  hanging  on  it  still.  Now,  if  the  world 
were  governed  on  Aunt  Dorothy's  principles,  strong 
winds  would  have  been  sent  to  sweep  every  one 
of  them  away  weeks  ago.  But  God  carries  on  his 
controversy  with  dead  things,  simply  by  making 
the  living  things  grow.  The  young  leaves  are 
pushing  oif  the  old,  one  by  one,  and  will  displace 
them  all  when  the  hour  is  come  when  all  things  are 
ready.  It  feems  as  if  the  old  things  hold  on  just 
as  long  as  tho  have  any  life  left  in  them  where- 
with to  serve  the  new." 

"  Yes,  tl  at  is  it,  sweet  heart,"  she  said  as  if  as- 
senting to  «  hat  she  had  long  known.     "  I,  at  least 


Ii8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  Sl'A 

know  no  way  of  fighting  with,  what  is  wrong,  like 
helping  everything  good  and  true  to  grow." 

S©  April  grew  into  May.  The  snowdrops,  haw- 
thorns, and  b!ue  hyacinths,  and  all  the  early  flowers 
were  lost  in  the  general  tide  of  colour  and  song 
which  suffused  the  earth.  These  "  first-born  from 
the  dead  "  were  succeeded  by  the  universal  resur- 
rection which  they  prefigured  and  promised. 

The  first  forerunners  of  spring  which  come  one 
by  one,  like  saints  or  heroes,  bearing  solitary  wit- 
ness to  the  new  kingdom  of  life,  which  meanwhile 
is  secretly  and  surely  expanding  round  their  roots, 
had  fought  the  fio'ht  with  snows  and  storms,  had 
borne  their  testimony  and  then  had  vanished  in  the 
growing  dawn  of  the  year. 

A  thousand  happy  thoughts  came  to  me  as  1 
wandered  in  the  old  gardens,  and  sat  on  the  old 
terrace,  with  Aunt  Gretel  and  Placidia,  wdiile  Pla- 
cidia's  little  Isaac  and  our  little  Maidie  played 
around  us ;  and  none  of  them  were  happier  than 
those  suggested  by  little  Isaac  himself.  Again 
and  again  he  recalled  to  me  Aunt  GreteFs  words, 
"  The  good  God  has  more  weapons  than  we  wot 
of,  and  more  means  of  grace  than  are  counted  in 
any  of  our  catechisms  and  confessions.  The  touch 
of  a  little  child's  hand  has  opened  many  a  door 
through  which  the  Master  has  afterwards  come  in, 
and  sate  down  and  supped." 

It  seemed  as  if  the  child  were  ever  leading  his 
mother  on  (all  the  more  surely  because  so  uncon- 
sciously to  him  and  to  her,)  opening  her  heart  to 
love,  and,  what  is  not  less  essential,  opening  her 


CW   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


ng 


eyes  to  see  the  truth  about  herself.  For  it  ih  not 
only  through  their  trustfulness  and  their  helpless- 
ness that  little  children  are  such  heavenly  teachers 
in  our  homes.  It  is  by  their  truthfulness,  or  rather 
by  their  incapacity  to  understand  hypocrisy.  They 
are  simply  unable  to  see  the  filmy  disguised  with 
which  we  cover  and  adorn  our  sins  and  infirmi- 
ties. The  disguises  are  invisible  to  them.  They 
see  only  (and  so  help  to  make  us  see)  the  reality 
within ;  and  thus  confer  on  us,  if  we  will  attend, 
the  inestimable  blessing  of  calling  our  faults  by 
their  right  names. 

I  remember  one  little  incident  among  many. 

I  was  sitting  by  the  fireside  in  the  Parsonage 
hall,  and  had  just  finished  reading  a  letter  from 
Roger,  and  telling  my  father  about  the  Irish  war. 

"  It  is  a  conflict  between  light  and  darkness,"  said 
my  father.  "  And  the  Mornings  of  the  Ages  do  not 
dawn  silently  like  the  morning  of  the  days,  but 
with  storms  and  thunders,  like  the  spring,  the 
morning  of  the  year." 

As  he  spoke,  I  looked  out  through  the  door  to 
the  sunshine.  Placidia  was  sitting  at  the  porch  at 
her  spinning-wheel,  Maidie  at  her  feet  pulling  some 
flowers  to  pieces  with  great  purpose  and  earnest- 
ness, singing  to  herself  the  while,  when  little  Isaac 
ame  running  to  her  across  the  farmyard  hugging  a 
struggling  cackling  hen,  which  he  plumped  in  a  tri- 
umphant way  into  Mai  die's  lap.  "  I  give  it  you,  Mai- 
die," said  he,  "  for  your  very  own."  But  Maidie,  fai 
more  overwhelmed  by  the  hen  than  by  the  homage 
began  to  cry ;  whereon  Placidia,  leaving  her  spin 


12C  ON  BOTH    SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

ning-wheel,  rescued  the  hen  and  Maidie,  and  sail— 

"  1  was  very  foolish,  Isaac.  You  should  ask  ma 
before  you  give  presents.  Maidie  is  too  little  to  un- 
derstand hens.  If  you  wanted  to  give  her  anything, 
you  rfhould  have  asked  mother." 

"But  I  was  afraid  you  might  say  no."  said  Wac. 
"And  I  had  been  planning  it  all  night.  I  thca^ht 
it  would  be  so  nice  for  Maggie." 

"Maggie  is  a  very  little  girl,"  rejoined  Pla-idia; 
"and  if  you  wanted  to  give  her  something,  a  very 
little  thing  would  please  her  quite  as  much.  There 
is  your  little  gilt  bauble,  that  you  used  to  play  ay  <th 
when  you  were  Maidie's  age.  It  is  of  no  use  to 
you  now,  and  it  would  be  nice  for  her." 

"  But,"  said  Isaac  scornfully,  "  that  would  not  be 
giving,  that  would  be  only  leaving.  I  want  to  give 
Maidie  something.  And  I  love  Maidie  dearlv,  and 
and  so  I  want  to  give  her  the  nicest  thing  I  have. 
Don't  you  understand,  mother,"  he  continued,  in 
the  eager  hasty  way  natural  to  him,  knitting  his 
brows  with  earnestness.  "  I  want  to  give  some- 
thing to  Maidie.  There  is  no  pleasure  in  throwing 
old  things  away,  to  Maidie  or  any  where  else.  It  is 
giving  that  is  so  pleasant." 

The  colour  came  into  Placidia's  face.  She  said 
in  a  hesitating  way, — 

"  But  the  hen  will  lay  ever  so  many  eggs,  Isaac. 
You  could  give.  Maidie  the  eggs,  and  keep  the  hen, 
which  would  lay  more." 

"But  I  want  the  hen  to  lay  the  eggs  for  Maidie,'" 
he  replie  1.  "  I  have  thought  of  it  all.  It  is  a  great 
pity  you  don't  understand,  Maidie,"  he  continued, 


UN   BOTH   SIDES   OF   THJ  SEA.  121 

Beriously  appealing  to  Maidie's  reason  in  a  way  she 
could  not  at  all  appreciate.  "  It  is  the  prettiest 
hen  in  the  yard,  and  she  will  give  you  a  new  egg 
every  morning,  and  it  would  be  your  very  own. 
and  yon  could  give  it  Aunt  Olive  yourself." 

But  this  extensive  future  was  entirely  beyoud 
Maidie's  powers  of  vision.  She  shook  her  head, 
apparently  hesitating  oetweeu  encountering  a  fresh 
assault  from  Isaac  and  the  hen,  and  sacrificing  the 
precious  bits  of  flowers  she  had.  so  diligently 
pulled  to  pieces  and  thought  so  beautiful ;  until  at 
length,  as  Isaac  again  approached,  terror  won  the 
day,  and  gathering  up  her  treasures  as  best  she 
could,  in  her  lap,  she  fled  to  me  for  protection,  and 
hid  her  face  in  my  skirt. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  Maidie  cannot  understand," 
murmured  Isaac  in  the  porch,  not  venturing,  how- 
ever, to  follow  and  renew  his  homage.  "  But 
mother,  don't  you  understand?" 

It  is  not  the  mother,  it  was  the  child  that  did 
not  understand.  But  she  made  no  further  explana- 
tion nor  opposition.     She  only  said  softly, — 

"Never  mind,  Isaac.  You  shall  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  giving.  You  shall  keep  the  hen  for  Maidie, 
and  o-ive  it  her  when  she  is  old  enough  to  know 
what  it  means." 

She  would  not,  for  much,  that  her  child  should 
see  into  the  dark  place  he  had  revealed  to  her  in 
her  own  heart.  So  ennobling  it  i3  to  be  believed 
incapable  of  being  ignoble. 

I  seemed  to  see  the  mother,  through  the  coming 
years,  led  gently  away  from  all  i'ait  kept  her  spirit 
11 


122  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

down,  aucl  on  to  the  best  of  which  she  was  capable 
^y  the  hallowing  trust  of  the  child. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  a  conflict  between  light  and 
darkness  was  going  on  in  the  quiet  parsonage  at 
Netherby,  as  well  as  on  the  blood-stained  fields  in 
Ireland. 

And  I  thought  that  hour  had  witneaflfid  one  of  \\% 
fiilent  virtories. 


Chapter  IV. 


LETTICES     DIARY 


EPTEMBER  1649,  Paris.—'  Put  not  your 

trust  in  princes.' 

"  The  young  king  hath  left,  for  Jersey ; 

whither  further,  time  will  show.  Regret 
at  his  departure  by  this  hollow  French  Court  is  scarce 
even  feigned.  Walter  is  gone  to  join  the  gallant 
Marquis  of  Montrose.  And  perilous  as  the  enter- 
prise is,  it  is  a  kind  of  relief  to  us  ;  so  far  greater 
seem  to  us  the  perils  of  the  king's  idle  court  than 
those  of  the  field. 

"  We  are  not  made  to  feel  so  very  welcome  here  as 
to  make  our  lives  a  festival.  Cardinal  Mazarin,  who, 
with  the  Queen-Mother,  ordereth  all  things  (the 
king,  Louis  XIV.,  being  but  a  boy  of  eleven  or 
twelve  years  of  age),  lets  it  be  seen  but  too  plainly 
that  they  would  not  be  sorry  to  see  the  young  king, 
and  even  the  Queen  Henrietta  herself  (though  a 
daughter  of  France),  translated  to  any  other  asylum. 
His  Majesty  but  lately  dismissed  some  Commissio- 
ners from  Scotland  (where  they  had  the  grace  tc 
proclaim  him  in  February1).    They  were  Covenanted 

(133) 


M 


ON  BOTH  SILKS    OF    THE  SEA. 


persons,  and  made  so  much  parley  as  to  the  con 
ditions  on  which  they  would  be  subject  to  him, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  their  true  purpose  wau  but  to 
make  him  subject  to  them.  The  negotiations  were 
broken  off  all  the  more  abruptly,  in  consequence  of 
the  over-zeal  of  some  followers  of  the  crallant  Mar- 
quis  of  Montrose,  who  assassinated  the  Ambassador 
of  the  'Parliament'  at  the  Hague.  This  deed 
ma  le  the  Scottish  Commissioners  more  stiff*  in  their 
ways,  so  that  their  Commission  ended  in  nothing. 
My  father,  with  the  most  zealous  of  the  king's  fol- 
lowers, much  misliketh  these  dealings  with  men 
'whose  very  Covenant  (saith  he)  constitutes  them 
rebels.' 

"  '  If  the  Scottish  people  are  happy  enough  to  get 
their  king  back,'  he  protests,  '  after  basely  selling 
his  father  (of  sacred  memory),  they  must  take  him 
as  a  king,  not  as  a  scholar  or  slave  of  their  arrogant 
preache?*s.  Otherwise,  better  remain  king  of  his 
faithful  exiles  here,  of  loyal  Jersey  and  the  Isle  of 
Man  (which  the  noble  Countess  of  Derby  still  holds 
for  him),  and  bide  his  time.' 

"  For  my  father  liketh  not  subtleties,  and  the 
double  ways,  of  Courts.  The  Marquis  of  Montrose 
(with  his  followers)  he  thinks  well-nigh  the  only  Scot- 
tish man  worthy  the  name  of  loyal ;  he  who  writ 
on  his  master's   death — 

" '  I'll  sing  thine  obsequies  ■with  trumpet  sounds, 
And  write  thine  epitaph  in  blood  and  wounds.' 

"October  loth. — Good  Mr.Evelyn, who  came  to  kiss 
the  king  and  the  queen's  hand  (an  honour  few  covet 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  125 

now),  hath  brought  us  heavy  tidings  to-day  of  a 
dire  massacre  at  Tredah  in  Ireland ;  the  flower  of 
the  JNTarquis  of  Orrnoi  d's  army  cut  off,  and  such  a 
panic  struck  through  the  land  that  one  stronghold 
after  another  has  yielded.  It  was  Cromwell's  doing. 
When  will  the  awful  career  of  this  man  of  blood  be 
brought  to  an  end '?  Not  a  few  among  us  think  he 
must  be  master  of  some  dread  sorceries.  How  else 
should  he  eas";  h;s  wicked  spells  around  the  good 
men  who,  alas  !  follow  him  ? 

"  Some  even  think  there  are  mysterious  allusions  to 
him  in  the  Book  of  the  Revelations.  Certain  Greek 
figures  there,  which  are  also  letters,  being  capable, 
if  ingeniously  taken  to  pieces  and  put  together 
again,  of  being  made  to  spell  the  number  of  his 
name,  or  the  name  of  something  belonging  to  him. 
Of  this  I  cannot  judge,  not  knowing  Greek.  And 
I  think  it  scarce  wise  to  build  too  much  on  it,  because 
I  understand  these  same  figures  have  been  diverse- 
ly  applied  before  by  various  interpreters  to  their  va- 
rious enemies.  And  perhaps  it  is  better  (at  least 
for  people  who  do  not  know  Greek)  to  wait  until 
the  prophecies  are  fulfilled  before  they  thus  interpret 
them.  It  would  be  a  pity  (if  we  should,  after  all, 
be  mistaken)  to  find  we  had  been  misapplying  the 
Hoiy  Scriptures  into  a  vocabulary  for  calling  people 
ill  names  withal.  That  this  terrible  man  is,  how- 
ever, indeed  as  a  terrible  'Beast,'  trampling  on 
kings  and  peoples  and  nations,  'dreadful  and  ter- 
rible and  strong  exceedingly,  having  iron  teeth, 
devouring  and  breaking  in  pieces,  and  stamping  the 
residue  with  his  feet,'  no  Royalist  can  doubt 
11* 


,2fi  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

"This  loss  of  Tredah,  good  Mr.  Evelyn  saith, 
forerunneth  the  loss  of  all  Ireland.  His  Majesty, 
when  he  heard  of  it.  is  reported  to  have  said,  '  Then 
]  must  so  and  die  there  too.'  But  these  melan- 
cholic  and  heroical  moods,  my  father  saith,  do  not 
last  long  with  His  Majesty. 

"Jan.  30lk,  1650. — A  day  ever  to  be  remembered 
with  fasting,  and  weeping,  and  bitter  lamentation. 

"  Sc  I  wrote  this  morning,  and  just  after,  sweet 
Madame  La  Mothe  came  to  bid  me  to  a  fete.  She 
cam©  into  the  room  in  a  glow  of  kindly  animation 
with  the  pleasure  she  hoped  to  gi  ?e  me,  but  started 
appalled  at  my  robe  of  deep  moirning  (which  of 
late,  at  my  father's  Avish,  I  had  lightened),  and  the 
grave  face  which  too  unfeignedly  accompanied  it. 

"  'My  child,'  she  said,  'what  ne  v  calamity?  Thou 
shouldst  have  let  thy  mother's  ol  1  friend   share  it.' 

"  '  No  new  calamity,  madame,'  I  said ;  '  or,  at 
least,  a  calamity  always  new  unl  il  it  is  expiated. 
This  is  the  anniversary  of  the  martyrdom.' 

"  'The  fete  of  a  martyr,  my  fr  erd?'  said  she 
*  I  thought  your  English  Church  had  no  martyrs, 
or,  at  least,  no  calendar.      Besides,  we  keep  our 
martyrs'  days  as  festivals.' 

"  '  Scarcely,  madame,'  I  said,  '  when  only  a  year 
old.  It  is  the  day  of  the  death  of  our  martyred 
iing.' 

"  '  Ah  !'  she  said,  drawing  a  long  breath.  '  Doubt- 
less the  death  of  the  late  king  of  England  was  a  was 
a  sad  tragedy.     All  the  Courts  of  Evrope  acknow- 
ledged it  to  be  so.   Most  of  them  went  in  moorning 
at  the  time.' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  127 

"  But  she  was  evidently  much  relieved. 

"  '  It  matters  not,  my  loyal  child  !'  she  said.  '  To- 
day you  shall  devote  to  your  pious  lamentations.  I 
will  defer  the  little  fete  I  promised  myself  on  your 
account  till  to-morrow.' 

"  And  with  an  embrace  she  left  me. 

"  But  I  think  scarcely  anything  before  has  made 
rae  feel  so  much  what  it  is  to  be  an  exile.  To  her 
the  sovereign  for  whom  we  have  willingly  sacrificed 
so  much,  and  were  ready  to  sacrifice  all,  is  merely 
'the  late  king  of  England;'  the  anniversary  of  his 
martyrdom  is  no  more  than  that  of  St.  Pancras  or 
St.  Alban;  and  an  ample  lamentation  for  his  death 
is  a  (Jour1;  mourning  ! 

"  My  father  commended  me  for  my  loyal  black 
draperies.  But  when  Barbe  began  and  concluded 
our  dinner  with  the  meagre  soup  which  I  thought 
the  only  fare  appropriate  for  such  a  day,  he  looked 
a  little  anxiously  for  something  to  follow ;  and 
when  nothing  came,  and  I  reminded  him  what  day 
it  was,  and  asked  him  to  finish  with  a  grace  he 
said  a  little  hastily, — 

"'The  grace  at  the  be<nnnin2;  is  enough,  I  think, 
child,  when  the  end  follows  so  close  upon  it.' 

"  Then  when  Barbe  had  withdrawn,  he  went  to 
the  window  looking  into  the  court  and  whistled  a 
cavalier  tune;  and  then,  checking  himself,  threw 
himself  into  a  chair,  and  murmured, — 

"  '  It  has  a  fearful  effect  on  an  English  gentleman's 
brain  to  be  shut  up  for  months  in  streets,  like  a 
Londoa  haberdasher.  With  such  a  life  one  might 
Bink  into  anything  ii    time;  a  Roundhead — a  Lev 


,28  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

eller — anything  !  No  wonder  the  Parliament  found 
their  adherents  in  the  towns.' 

"  Then  moving  uneasily  again  to  the  window,  he 
said, — 

'•  '  Lettice,  can't  you  get  some  fellow  to  stop  that 
doleful  broken-nosed  woman  from  everlastingly  # 
letting  the  water  drop  out  of  her  pitcher?  It  is 
enough  to  drive  a  man  crazy.  It  is  like  a  per- 
petual rainy  day,  and  takes  away  the  only  comfort 
one  has  left  in  this  den  of  a  place,  which  is  the 
weather.' 

"  I  persuaded  him  to  listen  to  a  little  of  the  '  Icon 
Basilike '  to  soothe  him.  But  he  even  took  ex- 
ception to  His  Majesty's  words.  At  length  he 
cried, — 

"  Lettice,  my  child,  prithee  stop.  It  is  very  excel- 
lent, but  it  is  very  dismal.  I  suppose  His  Majesty 
did  write  it  all,  poor  gentlemen,  though  hoAV  he 
could  find  it  a  comfort  I  cannot  imagine.  However, 
there  is  no  saying  what  a  man  may  be  driven  to 
comfort  himself  withal,  if  kept  months  together  in 
one  chamber.  A  day  makes  me  feel  like  an  idiot.' 
"  Then  I  took  my  embroidery,  and  sought  to 
tempt  him  to  converse. 

"  But  he  only  went  from  one  melancholy  topic  to 
another — the  assassination  of  Dr.  Dorislaus  at  the 
Hague  ('a  disgrace  to  the  good  cause,' he  said);  the 
folly  of  listening  to  Covenanting  Scottish  men  ;  the 
incivilities  of  the  cardinal  and  the  French  Court ; 
the  baseness  of  the  Spanish  Court  in  calling  the 
young  king  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  scarce  receiv- 
ing his  ambassadors  except  as  rrivate  frends.     The 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  529 

on  y  topic  which  he  seemed  to  dwell  on  with  any 
satisfaction  was  the  wickedness  of  Cromwell  and 
the  Ironsides,  which  he  said  was  too  bad  to  be  tol- 
erated long  even  in  such  a  wretched  place  as  Puri- 
tans and  Papists  had  made  of  this  world.  But  on 
this  it  gave  me  no  delight  to  hear  him  expatiate, 
which  he  noticed  with  some  irritation,  saying, — 

"'Between  your  loyalty,  and  your  objection  to 
hear  things  said  against  the  rebels,  Lettice,  and 
that  confounded  woman  who  can  never  get  her 
pitcher  emptied,  and  Cardinal  Mazarin,  it  is  really 
no  easy  thing  for  a  man  to  keep  up  his  spirits.' 

"And  he  paced  out  of  the  room,  leaving  me  alone. 
Thereupon,  I  went  faithfully  over  the  bitter  steps 
of  the  '  dolorous '  way  trodden  by  those  royal  feet  so 
recently;  the  while  I  thought  how  good  Mistress 
Dorothy  was  doubtless  keeping  a  Puritan  fast  at 
Kidderminster  on  the  same  occasion  ;  and  my  heart 
wandered  involuntarily  to  other  sorrows  of  a  dolor- 
ous way  not  yet  finished,  and  I  hugged  my  crosses 
until  I  felt  rather  like  celebrating  my  own  martyr 
dom  as  well  as  the  king's.  Thus  I  wept  much,  and 
was  beginning  to  feel  very  wretched,  and  to  hope  I 
was  the  better  for  it,  when  my  father  returned. 

"  His  countenance  was  lightened,  and  he  kissed 
me  very  kindly  on  the  cheek. 

"  'Poor  pale  child  !'  he  said.  '  Well,  it  can't  be 
helped.  I  hope  the  fasting  does  thee  good.  But  it 
does  me  none.  It  makes  me,  not  a  saint,  but  a  sour 
old  curmudgeon;  as  I  have  proved  pretty  forcibly 
to  thee,  sweet  heart.  It  never  suited  me  when 
things  were  cheerful.     I  always  told  your  m  >t her 


•3° 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


I  could  never  take  it  up  until  she  found  some  Pr  »t< 
estant  Pope  who  could  grant  dispensations  when 
necessary.  And  now  that  everything  is  dismal,  it 
is  a  great  deal  more  than  I  can  bear.  So,  my  dear, 
1  have  told  Barbe  to  bring  me  the  remains  of  that 
venison  pasty  and  a  flask  of  Burgundy.  And  I  feel 
Detter  for  the  thought  of  it  already.  The  times  are 
altogether  too  melancholic  for  fasts,  Lettice.  FastH 
are  all  very  well  for  comfortable  cardinals  like  this 
Mazarin,  who  know  they  can  dine  like  princes  to- 
morrow ;  but  not  for  poor  dogs  of  exiles',  who  may 
have  to  dine  with  Duke  Humphrey  any  day  without 
getting  any  benefit  out  of  it  for  body  or  soul.' 

"Barbe  duly  appeared  with  the  pasty  and  thewinf, 
and  as  I  sat  beside  my  father  the  words  came  to 
me,  iBe  not  as  the  hypocrites,  of  a  sad  countenance^ 
and  a  chill  seemed  to  pass  away  from  my  heart.  I 
began  to  wonder  whether,  after  all,  I  had  been  keep- 
ing the  right  kind  of  fast ;  and  I  said  something 
cheerful  to  my  father. 

"  '  Well,  sweet  heart,'  he  replied,  '  the  fast  seems 
to  do  thee  no  harm.  What  wast  thou  doing  while 
I  was  away  ?' 

"  'Reading  the  Acts  of  the  Martyrdom,'  I  said 
'  Going  over  the  king's  parting  with  the  royal  chil 
dren,  and  his  walk  from  St.  James's  to  Whitehall 
through  the  biting  frost,  and  what  he  said  to  Bishop 
Juxon  on  the  scaffold,  and  his  taking  off  the  George, 
and  all.' 

"  '  But,  dear  heart,'  said  he,  '  that  is  all  over  !  To 
whom  dost  think  it  does  good  for  thee  to  cry  over 
it  all  again  ?     Not,  of  course,  to  the   king,  who  is 


ON  BOTH    SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  131 

on  the  other  side  of  it ;  nor  to  the  queen  ;  nor  to 
the  young  king,  who  seems  able  enough  to  take 
consolation  in  one  way  or  another.  To  whom,  then  ? 
Because  if  it  is  only  to  thyself,  it  seems  a  great  deal 
of  pains  to  take.  There  are  so  many  people  suffer- 
ing now,  whom  one  might  perhaps  comfort  by  weep 
ing  with  them,  that  life  seems  to  me  scarce  long 
enough  to  weep  for  the  sorrows  of  those  who  weep 
no  more.' 

" '  He  spoke  diffidently,  as  if  on  ground  on  which 
he  felt  his  footing  doubtful.  And  when  for  a  while 
I  did  not  reply,  he  rejoined, — 

"  '  Do  not  speak  if  it  troubles  thee,  child.  Never 
heed  an  old  Cavalier's  confused  thoughts.  I  know 
there  are  mysterious  rites  which  only  the  initiated 
understand.' 

"  'Father,'  I  said,  drawing  close  to  him,  and  sit- 
ting on  a  footstool  at  his  feet.  '  I  know  no  myste- 
rious  sanctuary  which  we  cannot  enter  together. 
We  will  go  everywhere  together,  will  we  not  ?  I 
think  your  kind  of  fast  seems  the  Bible  kind.  I  am 
sure  any  fast  which  leaves  the  head  bowed  down 
like  a  bulrush,  cannot  be  the  right  kind.  And  if  we 
live  till  this  day  next  year,  I  will  try  and  find  out 
seme  sorrowful  people  whom  our  sympathy  might 
comfort,  and  our  bread  might  feed.  And  that  will, 
surely,  not  make  either  of  us  of  a  sad  countenance.' 

"  '  He  smiled,  and  began  to  tell  me  what  he  had 
seen  in  his  absence.  And  as  he  kissed  me  to-night, 
he  said, — 

"  '  Lettice,  child,  what  didst  thou  mean  by  our 
""oing  everywhere  together  ?     I  am  not  sucb  a  hea 


132  OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

then  as  to  hinder  thee  from  being  as  good  as  thou 
wilt.  I  lived  too  long  with  the  sweetest  saint  on 
earth  for  that.' 

"  '  I  meant  that  we  will  both  try  to  be  as  good  as 
we  can, '  I  said. 

"  '  True,  true,'  he  said ;  '  but  a  man's  goodness  is 
one  thing,  and  a  young  maiden's  another.  A  Cav- 
alier's virtue  is  to  be  brave  and  loyal  and  true,  gen- 
erous to  foes,  faithful  in  friendship,  and  (as  far  as 
possible),  in  love,  faithful  to  death  to  the  king.  For 
a  few  slips  by  the  way,  if  these  things  are  kept  to 
in  the  main,  it  is  to  be  hoped  there  is  pardon  from 
a  merciful  Heaven.' 

"  '  And  a  young  maiden's  goodness  ?'  I  said.  He 
hesitated, — 

"  '  All  this  of  course,  and  something  pure  and  ten- 
der, and  gentle  and  heavenly,  beside.  Ask  thine 
own  heart,  child  ! '  he  added  ;  '  what  do  I  know 
of  it  ?' 

"  'All  this,  father,'  I  said,  '  and  no  failures  by  the 
way  ?     Is  that  the  difference  ?' 

"  '  Nay,  saucy  child,  never  flatter  thyself,'  he  said. 
'  Thou  hast  perplexed  me  too  often  by  thy  pretty 
poutings  and  elfish  tricks  and  wilful  ways,  that  I 
should  say  that.' 

"  Then  I  ventured  to  say, — 

"  '  Are  the  Cavalier's  slips  by  the  way  forgiven 
if  they  do  not  ask  forgiveness,  and  do  not  try  to 
mend  ?' 

"  '  Come,  come,  I  am  no  father-confessor  to  meet 
thy  pretty  casuistry,'  he  said;  and  then  gravely 
'Many  of  us  do  ask  forgiveness.      God  knows  we 


ON  LOTH  SIDES    OF   THE   SEA  133 

need  it.     And  when  an  honest  man  asks  to  be  for- 
given, no  doubt  he  means  to  do  better.' 

"  '  Then  where  is  the  difference  ?'  I  said. 

"'Belike,'  he  said  thoughtfully,  'belike  there 
might  be  less  !  So,  good-night,  child  !  I  trow  thou 
never  forgettest  thy  prayers.  And  I  suppose  there 
is  something  left  in  them  of  what  thou  wast  wont 
to  ask  when  I  used  to  listen  to  thee  a  babe  lisping 
at  thy  mother's  knee  ;  "  Pray  God  bless  my  dear 
father  and  mother  and  brothers,  and  make  us  all 
good,  and  take  us  to  Thee  when  we  die."  That 
prayer  is  answered,  surely  enough,  for  two  of  us 
Try  it  still,  child  ;  try  it  still.' 

"  Words  which  made  me  go  to  rest  with  little  temp- 
tation to  be,  as  the  hypocrites,  of  a  sad  countenance. 

"April. — The  gallant  Marquis  of  Montrose  has 
landed  with  foreign  recruits  in  Caithness,  to  venture 
all  for  the  king,  in  fair  and  open  war.  The  king, 
meanwhile,  has  been  entertaining  Commissioners 
from  the  Covenanting  party,  who  hate  Montrose  to 
the  death ;  writing  secretly  to  assure  the  marquis 
of  his  favour,  and  openly  receiving  the  marquis's 
mortal  enemies.  My  father  is  sick  at  heart,  he  and 
many  other  of  the  noblest  of  the  Cavaliers,  at  these 
courtly  double-dealings. 

"May. — My  father  came  in  to-day  sorely  dispirited. 

"  '  There,'  he  exclaimed  bitterly.  '  A  letter  from 
Walter.  He  is  safe,  poor  boy,  in  some  desert  moun- 
tain or  other,  among  the  wild  deer  and  wild  men. 
But  the  best  of  us  is  gone ;  the  only  Scottish  captain 
I  would  have  cared  to  serve  under,  Montrose,  de- 
feated at  Invercarron  in  the  Highlands,  his  foreign 
12 


,34  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   TILE  SEA. 

hirelii  gs  a  hundred  of  them  killed,  and  the  real, 
with  the  Highlanders,  scattered ;  the  marquis  him- 
self  taken  by  those  "loyal"  Covenanters  and  hanged 
at  Edinburgh  ! 

"  '  He  died  the  death  of  a  hero,'  he  pursued,  after 
a  pause  ;  '  it  might  be  well  if  we  were  all  with  him, 
away  from  these  fatal  clever  tricks  of  policy.  The 
king's  most  faithful  servant  hanged  at  the  Tolbooth, 
and  the  king  going  to  Scotland  hand  in  glove  with 
the  canting  hypocrites  who  murdered  him  ;  making 
promises  without  stint,  and  meantime  encouraging 
his  old  followers  by  promising  never  to  keep  them ! 
How  can  any  man  know  what  promises  he  does  mean 
to  keep  ?  A  curse  on  this  hollow  French  Court, 
and  all  that  comes  of  it !  It  "would  take  little  to 
drive  many  of  us  back  to  our  English  homes,  to  the 
farm  and  the  chase,  and  let  these  Puritans  and  poli- 
ticians hunt  each  other  as  they  please.' 

"  '  But  the  brave  marquis  ?'  I  said,  wishing  to 
turn  him  from  bitter  thoughts  on  which  I  knew  he 
would  never  act. 

"  '  Deserted  by  his  men,  changing  clothes  with  a 
poor  country  fellow  ;  taken  in  this  disguise  by  the 
enemy,  delivered  up  to  General  David  Lesley, 
dragged  about  from  town  to  town,  and  exhibited 
to  the  people  in  his  mean  dress,  in  the  hope  he 
would  be  insulted.  But  the  poor  common  folk 
jeered  him  not — they  pitied  him;  so  that  in  this 
Lesley's  malice  was  disappointed.  Then  taken  in 
an  open  cart  through  Edinburgh,  his  arms  tied  to 
the  sides  of  the  cart,  his  hat  taken  off  by  the  hang- 
man, and  so  dragged  in  base  triumph  through  the 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


»35 


streets  of  the  city.  He  gave  the  driver  mmey  fW 
conducting  what  he  called  his  triumphal  car.  Then 
persecuted  and  cursed  in  the  form  of  prayers,  by 
ministers  and  men  calling  themselves  judges,  for 
two  days,  and  at  last  hanged  on  a  gallows  thirty 
feet  high,  with  the  book  recording  his  deeds  around 
his  neck  ;  a  more  honourable  decoration,  he  said, 
than  his  Order  of  the  Garter  which  he  lost  in  his 
last  battle.  One  thing  only  of  the  traitor's  doom 
was  spared  him.  They  did  not  torture  him,  but 
hanged  him  till  he  was  dead.  His  limbs  were  quar- 
tered. "When  they  threatened  him  with  that,  he 
said  he  would  he  had  flesh  enough  to  be  distributed 
through  every  town  in  Christendom,  as  a  testimony 
of  the  cause  for  which  he  suffered.  A  brave  end  ; 
no  death  on  a  victorious  battle-field  more  worthy 
of  a  loyal  gentleman  !' 

" '  But  the  king  will  never  trust  himself  with 
Montrose's  murderers  ?'  I  said. 

"'He  will  go  with  them  immediately,' was  his 
reply,  '  accepting  all  their  conditions,  spite  of  all 
that  Mr.  Hyde  and  other  counsellors,  who  love 
him  and  love  truth,  can  say.  Xot  one  of  his  old 
friends  and  counsellors  permitted  to  be  with  him, 
nor  one  who  fought  for  his  father  against  the  Par- 
liament, without  taking  the  Covenant.  And  he  ia 
to  take  the  Covenant  himself.  How  is  it  he  cannot 
see  (as  Mr.  Hyde  says),  that  "  to  be  a  king  but  in 
name  in  his  oion  kingdom,  is  a  far  lower  degradation 
than  to  be  a  king  but  in  name  anywhere  else  ?" 
How  is  it  he  cannot  see,  that  promises  made  to  bo 
broken,  ruin  the  soul  iu  making  and  the  caufie  in 


.36  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 

breaking  ?  But  it  is  all  the  Queen  Mother's  doiug. 
and  those  hollow  French  Papistical  ways.  Tossed 
to  and  fro  between  Papists  and  Covenanters,  what 
can  a  sanguine  and  good-natured  young  king  of 
twenty  do  ?' 

"Thus  having  relieved  himself  by  some  hearty 
abuse  of  the  French  politicians  and  the  Scottish 
preachers,  my  father's  loyalty  began  to  blaze  bright 
again,  and  he  concluded, — 

"  '  And  we  shall  have  to  go  to  him,  and  get  him 
out  of  his  Covenanting  jailers'  hands  as  best  we 
may.' 

"  So  His  Majesty  has  landed  in  Cromarty,  having 
to  sign  the  Covenant  before  they  would  suffer  him 
to  tread  on  Scottish  ground.  He  is  being  led  about 
listening  to  sermons  containing  invectives  on  his 
father's  tyranny,  his  mother's  idolatry,  and  his  own 
malignity  ;  rebuked  by  preachers  on  their  knees,  in 
humble  postures,  but  in  very  plain  terms. 

«  July.— A  letter  from  Mistress  Dorothy,  full  of 
hopeful  expectation,  rejoicing  that  the  best  hopes 
are  entertained  of  His  Majesty's  salvation,  tem- 
poral and  eternal.  She  understands  that  he  is 
desirous  of  being  instructed  in  the  ways  of  the 
Lord,  listens  with  marvellous  earnestness  to  gos- 
pel sermons  in  which  he  and  his  are  not  spared, 
and  has  already  signed  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant.  The  only  thing  to  be  wished,  saith 
she,  is  that  the  instructions  could  have  preceded 
the  signing.  Marvellous,  she  thinks,  are  the  ways 
of  the  Almighty;  that  'out  of  the  ashes,  as  it 
were,  of  the  late  king,  who,  whatever  his  excel- 


ON  BOTE   SIDES  OF   7  h'E  SEA. 


137 


lencee,  it  Cv.uld  not  be  denied  had  prelatical  pre- 
dilections and  prejudices  strongly  opposed  to  the 
Covenant,  should  spring  a  young  monarch  of  so 
docile  a  disposition  and  so  hopeful  a  piety,  for 
the  everlasting  sanctification  and  benediction  of 
the  three  kingdoms.' 

"  My  father  gave  a  low  significant  whistle  when  I 
read  him  this  passage. 

"  '  Poor  Mistress  Dorothy  !'  he  said  ;  '  and  poor 
young  king  !' 

"•  July  3. — Another  letter  from  Mistress  Dorothy, 
in  a  strain  unusual  with  her,  speaking  of  increas- 
ing infirmity,  and  hinting  that  she  may  not  be  able 
to  write  often  again  to  me.  It  is  onlv  me,  saith 
she,  to  whom  she  does  write.  By  my  father's  per- 
mission I  have  written  to  tell  Olive. 

"August  14. — Oliver  Cromwell  is  on  his  way  to 
Scotland.  There  will  be  fighting:.  The  king  and 
the  Covenanted  Scottish  Puritans  agaiiist  the  Iron- 
sides and  the  uncovenanted  English  Puritans  !  A 
strange  jumble  !  My  father  is  set  on  going,  to  take 
his  share  of  the  fighting.  He  is  to  leave  me  under 
the  care  of  Madame  la  Mothe,  who  has  designs  of 
making  me  acquainted  with  some  of  her  friends  of 
Fort  Royal. 

"Auausi  16. — Mv  father  has  left  to-day. 

"  '  Don  1  turn  Puritan  or  Papist,  Lettice,'  he  said, 
and  do  not  forget  thy  old  father  in  thy  prayers .' 

"  '  Nor  you  me,  father,'  I  whispered, '  in  yours.' 

"  '  The  men  the  fighting,  and  the  women  the  pray- 
ing, is  an  old  soldier's  rule,'  he  said. 

** '  But  not  ours,  father,'  I  said,  half  afraid  to  say 
12* 


t38  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

bo.     '  There  must  be  quiet  times  1  efore  tlie  battleaj 
and  after  them.' 

"  '  Not  very  quiet,'  he  said,  '  where  Oliver  is, 
However,  there  is  always  quiet  enough  for  old  Sir 
Jacob  Astley's  prayer — or  the  publican's  ;'  he  added 
reverently. 

"And  with  a  kiss,  and  a  blessing  in  a  faltering 
voice,  he  was  gone. 

"  Never  so  entirely  bound  to  each  other  as  the  mo- 
ment before  parting  ;  never  so  free  from  heart-bar- 
riers as  when  time  and  space  are  about  to  interpose 
their  impenetrable  barriers  between  us. 

"This  feeling  must  be  a  promise,  not  a  terrible 
mockery.  Surely  it  must  mean  that  the  barriers 
are  made  of  corruptible  things,  the  bonds  of  the 
incorruptible." 

olive's    kecollections. 

When  we  came  back  to  London  from  Netherby, 
my  husband  and  I,  Maidie  and  the  babe  and  Annis 
Nye,  on  the  31st  May  1650,  the  whole  city  was 
awake  and  astir  with  the  triumphal  welcome  of 
Oliver  Cromwell  on  his  way  home  from  the  Irish 
war.  In  Hyde  Park  the  Train-bands  and  salvoes 
of  artillery ;  through  the  streets  eager  crowds 
thronging  around  him,  shouting  welcomes,  as  he 
rode  to  the  royal  lodgings  the  nation  had  assigned 
him  in  "  the  Cockpit "  at  Whitehall,  whither  Mis- 
tress Cromwell  and  her  daughters  had  moved  (not 
very  willingly,  some  said)  a  few  weeks  before. 

In  a  short  time  Roger  came  into  the  house. 

"At  last  the  nation  acknowledges  him,  Roger  !' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  135 

I  said  ;  "  and  now,  we  may  trust,  the  wars  are  over, 
and  we  may  begin  to  reap  the  fruit." 

"Always  hoping  still,  Olive!"  he  replied,  with 
a  quiet  smile.  "  Always  thinking  we  are  getting 
out  of  the  Book  of  Judges  into  the  Book  of  Ruth  ; 
out  of  the  '  Book  of  the  wars  of  the  Lord,'  into  the 
greetings  of  the  reapers  and  the  welcome  of  the 
gleaners.  Not  yet,  I  am  afraid.  The  Scottish 
Covenanters  are  even  now  making  ready  to  wel- 
come their  Stuart  king  ;  and  that  matter  will  have 
to  be  settled  before  there  is  peace." 

"  But,  meantime,"  I  said,  "  it  must  cheer  the 
Lord-Lieutenant's  heart  to  be  thus  received." 

"  I  am  not  sure,  Olive,"  he  said.  "  I  just  heard 
that  a  person  said  to  him,  thinking  to  please  him, 
'  What  a  crowd  to  see  your  lordship's  triumph  !' 
but  that  he  replied,  '  There  would  be  a  greater 
crowd  to  see  me  hanged.'  " 

"  I  do  not  believe  that,  Roger,"  said  I.  "  I  do 
not  believe  his  is  a  heart  not  to  be  stirred  by  a 
people's  welcome." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  stirred,  Olive  ;  only  a  little  more 
deeply  than  to  a  ripple  of  pleasure.  Perhaps  he 
thought  of  the  poor  peasants  trying  to  till  the  Mil- 
lennium in  on  the  Surrey  hills,  and  the  poor  sol- 
diers trying  to  fight  it  in  at  Burlord,  and  of  the 
mutiny  in  Bishopsgate  Street. among  his  bravest 
troopers,  and  of  the  many  who  began  the  struggle 
at  his  side  now  in  deadly  opposition  to  him ;  and 
of  that  ancient  crowd  whose  hosannas  and  palin- 
branches  were  so  quickly  changed." 

"  Roger,"  I   said,  "  you    and   General   Cromwell 


HO  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

have  been  wanting  us  and  home  !  It  is  not  like  von 
to  look  in  this  melancholic  way  on  things." 

And  I  took  him  into  the  nursery  to  sec  Maidie 
and  the  babe  ;  a  sight  which,  my  husband  used  to 
say,  I  superstitiously  thought  a  charm  against  well- 
nigh  any  despondencies. 

Maidie  had  forgotten  him,  and  went  through  a 
number  of  pretty,  shy,  feminine  tricks,  before  she 
would  be  coaxed  to  come  near  him.  The  plain 
Ironsides'  armour  was  not  so  attractive  to  her  as 
would  have  been  the  Cavalier  plumes  and  tassels. 
Her  approval,  however,  once  Avon,  she  became  com- 
pletely at  her  ease,  subjecting  Roger  entirely  to  her 
petty  tyrannies,  and  making  the  room  ring  with  hei 
merry  little  voice ;  while  the  babe  looked  on,  serious 
and  amazed,  expressing  her  sympathy  in  the  festivi- 
ties by  senselessly  crowing,  and  by  vainly  endeav- 
ouring to  embrace  her  own  rosv  toes,  as  if  she  had 
been  a  benighted  baby  of  the  Dark  Ages,  instead 
of  an  enlightened  infant  of  the  Commonwealth. 

So  we  talked  no  more  politics  that  evening.  And 
in  the  morning,  Roger's  views  of  the  world  seemed 
to  me  more  hopeful.  Indeed,  there  was  work  to  be 
done,  and  so  no  more  time  for  despondency  ;  a  bit- 
ter root  which  needs  leisure  to  make  it  grow. 

In  June,  General  Cromwell  was  appointed  Cap- 
tain-General of  the  Forces  instead  of  General  Fair- 
fax, and  set  off  at  once  with  his  troops  for  Scotland, 
Roger  and  Job  Forster  among  them. 

My  husband  also  accompanied  them. 

My  father  soon  afterwaids  took  Aunt  Gretel  tc 
pay  a  visit  they  had  been  desiring  to  make  to  Gctf 


ON  B01A   SIDES    OF   THE  SEA.  i4i 

many  ever  oince  the  Thirty  Years'  War  had  ended 
(in  1048) ;  two  years  before. 

Early  in  August,  a  letter  came  from  Lettice  Dav- 
enant,  telling  me  that,  from  a  letter  she  had  re- 
ceived, she  thought  ill  of  Aunt  Dorothy's  health, 
and  deemed  that  she  stood  in  need  of  succour  and 
sympathy,  which,  rigid  to  her  vow,  and  all  its  con- 
sequences, she  would  never  ask. 

If  this  was  true,  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 
Nor  was  there  anything  to  detain  me  from  Aunt 
Dorothy.  The  old  house  at  Netherby  was,  for  the 
time,  deserted,  and  London  just  then,  in  the  sweet 
summer  time,  seemed  to  me  a  wilderness  and  soli- 
tary place. 

Moreover,  our  departure  was  made  all  the  easier, 
in  that  it  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  doing  a  kind- 
ness to  one  of  my  husband's  prison  friends,  good 
Dr.  Rich,  an  ancient  clergyman  whom  Leonard  had 
found  in  gaol  on  account  of  his  having  given  aid  to 
the  Royalists,  and  to  whom,  being  now  liberated 
but  deprived  of  his  benefice,  our  house  might  offer 
a  welcome  asylum.  Dr.  Rich  was  a  sober,  devout, 
and  learned  gentleman  ;  a  man  who  dwelt  much  in 
the  past,  and  was  more  interested  in  the  present  as 
illustrating  the  past,  vhan  for  its  own  sake. 

Nothing  gave  him  more  satisfaction  than  tracing 
the  pedigree  of  doctrines,  heterodox  or  orthodox, 
to  the  primitive  centuries,  in  which  he  assured  us 
were  to  be  found  the  parents,  or  the  parallels,  of  all 
the  heretics  and  sectaries  of  our  own  day,  from  the 
monks  to  the  Quakers  ;  including  the  Fifth  Mon- 
archy men,  who,  he  declared,  were   nothing  but  a 


1 42  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

resuscitation  of  certain  deluded  persons  called  Chili- 
asts,  who  had  been  convincingly  refuted  by  I  know 
not  how  many  Fathers. 

Meantime  (the  fifth  of  the  revenue  of  his  benefice, 
allowed  to  deprived  ministers  by  the  Parliament, 
being  but  irregularly  paid),  Dr.  Rich,  Mistress  Rich, 
and  his  eleven  children  found  a  parallel  in  their  own 
circumstances  to  the  primitive  poverty  of  the  ear- 
liest centuries  too  obvious  to  be  pleasant ;  and  it 
was  a  delight  to  be  able  to  offer  them  a  home  under 
the  guise  of  taking  care  of  our  house  in  our  absence. 

He  Avas  a  man  at  all  times  pleasantly  easy  to 
practise  upon  with  little  friendly  devices,  having 
little  more  knowledge  than  the  birds  of  the  air  as 
to  the  storehouse  or  barn  whence  his  table  was  sup- 
plied, and  being  always  diverted  by  a  little  subtlety 
from  the  perplexing  cares  of  the  present  to  the  per- 
plexed questions  of  a  thousand  years  ago. 

Accordingly,  with  little  parley,  or  preparation, 
Dr.  Rich  and  his  family  were  lodged  in  our  house, 
and  we  were  ready  to  depart.  If  Aunt  Dorothy's 
stronghold  was  to  be  entered,  it  must  be  by  sur- 
prise or  storm  ;  surrender  was  not  in  her  diction- 
ary, much  less  entreaties  for  succour. 

We  set  off,  under  the  care  of  our  serving-man, 
Annis  and  I  with  Maidie  and  the  babe,  our  caval- 
cade consisting  of  three  horses,  one  carrying  Aimis 
on  a  piilow  behind  the  serving-man;  the  other  (a 
sober  old  roadster)  bearing  the  babes  in  panniers, 
and  me  enthroned  between  them  ;  the  third,  a  pack- 
horse,  with  our  luggage  and  provender  for  the  way. 

This  mode  of  travelling  was  neither  swift  1.01 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


143 


exciting.  It  left  me  much  leisure  to  meditate  by 
what  subtleties  I  might  avoid  encounters  between 
Annis  and  Aunt  Dorothy,  should  Aunt  Dorothy  be 
sufficiently  well  for  her  orthodoxy  to  be  in  full 
force. 

To  forewarn  Annis  was  only  to  bring  on  the  con- 
flict I  dreaded  with  more  speed  and  certainty ;  to 
tell  her  a  road  was  dangerous  being  the  first  step 
towards  convincing;  her  it  was  ris[ht. 

To  forewarn  Aunt  Dorothy,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  equally  perilous.  So  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  could  only  let  things  take  their  course. 

For  without  Annis  I  could  not  have  come  at  all. 
Her  care  of  the  babes  was  pleasant.  Her  quiet, 
firm  will,  her  stillness,  and  her  sweet  even  voice 
kept  them  serene.  They  were  as  content  with  her 
as  with  me.  She  seemed  to  grudge  no  weariness 
or  toil  for  them,  and  her  temper  was  never  ruffled. 
Her  dainty  neatness  and  cleanliness  were  like  per- 
petual fresh  air  around  them  ;  and,  moreover,  my 
heart  was  tender  to  the  orphan  maiden  with  a  heart 
so  womanly,  and  a  belief  so  perilous,  in  the  midst 
of  a  rude  world,  which  miedit  crush  her  delicate 
frame  to  dust,  yet  never  bend  her  will  a  hair's 
breadth. 

The  points  at  which  she  and  her  sect  came  into 
antagonism  with  the  rest  of  the  world  were  scat- 
tered all  over  the  surface  of  every-day  social  life  ; 
and  to  her  every  one  of  these  became,  when  assailed, 
no  mere  outwork,  but  the  very  citadel  of  her  most 
central  convictions,  in  which,  for  the  time,  all  the 
forces  of  her  mind  and  heart  were  gathered,  ard 


'44 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


which  she  could  no  more  voluntarily  yield  than  aha 
could  voluntarily  cease  to  breathe. 

It  was  a  serious  responsibility  to  have  the  ch:.rge 
of  a  person,  every  one  of  whose  minutest  convic- 
tions was  to  her  essential  as  the  distinctive  con- 
viction of  each  sect  to  its  members,  and  whose 
convictions  crossed  those  of  the  rest  of  the  world, 
not  only  in  what  they  profess  in  church  on  Sun- 
day, but  in  what  they  practise  at  home  every  hour 
of  every  day.  ' 

Nor  was  this  all.  If  Annis's  resistance  had  been 
merely  passive,  there  might  still  have  been  hope  of 
escape. 

But  not  only  did  all  the  world  believe  the  Quakers 
wrong ;  they  believed  all  the  world  wrong.  Nor 
only  this.  They  believed  themselves  commanded 
jointly  and  severally  to  set  all  the  world  right,  a 
conviction  which,  under  no  conceivable  form  of 
government,  is  likely  to  lead  to  a  tranquil  life. 
We  could  never  tell  at  what  moment  Annis  might 
feel  moved  to  tell  any  peaceful  Presbyterian  minis- 
ter, in  the  gentlest  tones,  that  he  was  "  a  minister 
of  Antichrist ;"  or  any  strict  Precisian  matron,  who 
would  no  more  have  indulged  in  a  feather  than  in 
an  iclol-feast,  that  she  was  "  swallowed  up  with  the 
false  and  heathen  customs  of  the  world,"  in  calling 
a  single  person  you  ;  or  in  "  idolatrously  naming 
the  secoi  d  or  third  day  after  the  hosts  of  heaven." 

However,  the  duty  had  been  assigned  me  by  my 
husband,  and  was  bound  fast  on  me  by  the  pity  and 
love  I  felt  for  Annis.  This  did  not  hinder  her  being 
a  far  more  anxious  charge  to  me  than  ray  babes. 


OX    BOTH  SJJiJlS    Ob'    THil    SKA.  14$ 

On  <  ue  occasion,  however,  we  owed  a  brotherly 
welcome  to  her. 

We  were  benighted  on  the  Surrey  hills,  to  which 
we  had  turned  aside  with  a  view  of  lodging  at  a 
friend's  house. 

The  babes  began  to  mewl  and  be  weary.  The 
place  was  solitary,  sandy,  with  sweeps  of  barren 
heath.  It  was  St.  George's  Hill,  and  I  began  to 
recall  wild  stories  of  the  poor  peasants  "called 
Saxons,  but  believing  themselves  Jews,  and  in- 
heritors of  the  earth,"  who  had  tried  to  dig  the 
wild  moors  into  millennial  fertility  a  few  months 
before,  and  had  threatened  park  palings; — so  that 
I  should  have  half  feared  to  ask  shelter  had  any 
human  dwelling  appeared.  Yet  to  camp  on  the 
wilds,  with  two  young  fretting  babes,  even  on  an 
August  night,  was  unwelcome. 

As  I  was  plodding  on,  seeking  to  soothe  the  infant 
in  my  arms,  and  singing  soft  songs  to  Maidie,  a  wild 
figure  issued  forth  from  a  hollow  tree,  at  sight  of 
whom  my  heart  stood  still.  He  was  clad  in  leather 
from  top  to  toe. 

But  his  carriage  was  grave,  not  like  a  plunderer, 
and  he  accosted  me  soberly,  though  without  any 
titles  (as  Mistress  or  Madam),  calling  me  "friend" 
and  "  thou." 

At  once  Annis  recognized  him,  calling  him 
l<  George,"  and  greeting  him  as  one  she  honoured. 

After  a  brief  conference  with  her,  he  came  and 
bade  me  be  of  good  cheer,  there  were  some  of  the 
Children  of  Light  dwelling  not  far  off*,  to  whom  be 
would  take  us  for  shelter. 
13 


I46  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE   SEA. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  came  to  a  humble  cot  in  a 
hollow  of  the  clowns,  where,  without  many  words, 
we  found  kindness  and  hospitality  worthy  of  any 
mansion  ;  the  good  woman  preparing  food  and  fire, 
so  that  the  babes  were  soon  quiet  and  asleep,  while 
iar  into  the  night  they  entertained  us  with  heavenly 
discourse,  which  was  more  restful  than  sleep.  The 
goodman  told  us  how,  "  when  after  Everard  and 
Winstanley  and  their  promised  millennium  had 
failed,  he  had  gone  back  hopeless  and  dispirited  to 
his  old  toils  for  a  froward  master,  working  early 
and  late  taking  rest,  knocked  about  by  his  master 
for  an  idle  knave,  jeered  at  by  his  mates  for  a 
lunatic,  earning  with  all  his  toil  scarce  enough  to 
still  the  hungry  cries  of  his  babes  ;  the  world,  dark 
enough  before,  made  dark  as  night  by  the  putting 
out  of  the  glory  of  the  kingdom,  which  was  so  soon 
to  have  made  it  day.  ("  And,"  said  the  good- wife 
with  moist  eyes,  "  too  oft  with  a  sour  word  from 
me.")  How  then,  when  he  was  feeling  like  one  for- 
saken of  God  and  man,  George  Fox,  the  man  in 
leather,  from  among  the  woods  where  he  passed 
much  time  in  solitude  with  his  Bible,  but  lately 
battered  and  bruised  by  a  mob  in  a  market  place, 
where  he  had  exhorted  the  people  against  false 
weights,  had  come  to  him  like  Elijah  from  the  wil- 
derness, and  had  told  him  of  the  universal  free 
grace  of  God  to  all  mankind,  of  the  kingdom  within, 
and  the  Light  within,  and  the  Spirit  within,  and  the 
one  Priesthood  of  the  Eternal  Intercessor,  and  the 
way  of  stillness  and  simplicity  by  the  rivers  ©f  the 
vallnys,  and  the  true  language  of  Thou  and  Thee, 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA.  X\f 

and  the  sin  of  war,  and  of  all  false  words  and  boks ; 
and  bow,  at  last,  looking  for  the  Lord  within  his 
heart,  he  had  found  in  Him  both  the  kingdom  and 
the  garden,  and  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place." 

After  him  spoke  George  Fox  himself.  He  could 
not  have  been  more  than  six-and-twenty;  but  I  con- 
fess his  discourse  came  to  me  with  marvellous  power. 

The  words  were  sometimes  confused,  as  if  they 
were  burst  and  shattered  with  the  fulness  of  the 
thought  within  them.  Something  of  the  same  kind 
we  had  noticed  of  old  in  Oliver  Cromwell. 

He  seemed  like  one  looking  into  depths  into  which 
he  himself  only  saw  a  little  way,  and  by  glimpses ; 
like  one  listening  to  a  far-off  voice,  which  reached 
his  spirit  but  in  broken  cadences,  and  our  spirits 
still  more  fiintly,  through  the  echo  of  his  voice. 
Yet  he  inspired  me  with  the  conviction  that  these 
depths  exist,  and  this  music  is  going  on  ;  a  conviction 
worth  something. 

He  spoke  somewrhat  of  his  early  life — of  his  father, 
Christopher  Fox,  a  weaver  of  Drayton-in-the-Clay 
in  Leicestershire,  whom  the  neighbours  called  Right- 
eous Christer ;  of  his  mother,  an  upright  woman, 
and  "  of  the  stock  of  the  martyrs ;"  of  the  "  gravity 
and  staidness  of  mind"  he  had  when  very  young. 
How  ho.  sought  to  act  faithfully  inwardly  to  God 
and  outwardly  to  man,  and  to  keep  to  yea  and  nay 
in  all  things.  And  how  men  said,  "  If  George  says 
Verily,  there  is  no  altering  him." 

He  felt  himself  "a  stranger  in  the  world,"  and 
when  others  were  keeping  Christmas  with  jollity 
he  kept  it  by  giving  what  he  had  to  some  poof 
widows  whom  he  visited. 


r  48 


OX  BOTn    BIDES   OF  THE  SEjx. 


Yet  in  his  youth  "  strong  temptations  came  on 
him  to  despair."  He  went  to  various  ministers  (he 
called  them  "priests").  But  none  helped  him. 
One  "  ancient  piiest"  reasoning  with  him  about  the 
ground  of  his  despair,  bid  him  "  take  tobacco  and 
sing  psalms."  But  "  tobacco  he  did  not  love,  and 
psalms  he  was  not  in  a  state  to  sing." 

When  he  was  twenty-two  (in  1645),  as  he  ap- 
proached the  gate  of  Coventry,  "  a  consideration 
arose  in  him  that  all  Christians  are  believers,  both 
Protestants  and  Papists,"  and  that  "if  all  were 
believers  then  they  were  all  born  of  God,  and  passed 
from  death  to  life,  and  that  none  were  believers  but 
such ;  and  that  being  bred  at  Oxford  or  Cambridge 
was  not  enough  to  qualify  men  to  be  ministers  of 
Christ." 

The  "darkness  and  covetousness  of  professors" 
troubled  him  sorely  in  London  and  elsewhere. 

Then  (said  he),  it  was  "opened  in  him,"  that  "  God 
dwelleth  not  in  temples  made  with  hands ;  but  in 
people's  hearts." 

This  seemed  at  first  to  him  "  a  strange  word,"  be- 
cause both  priests  and  people  call  their  churches 
"holy  ground"  and  "dreadful  places,"  and  templee 
of  God. 

He  ceased  to  go  near  the  priests,  and  wandered 
about  night  and  day,  in  "the  chase,"  in  the  open 
fields,  and  woods, and  orchards  with  his  Bible;  until 
finding  no  help  in  man,  at  last  he  heard  a  voice 
which  said,  There  is  one,  even  Christ  Jesus,  that  an 
ftpeak  to  thy  condition.''''  "  He  on  whom  the  sins  of  the 
whole  had  been  laid  ;  He  who  hath  the  key,  and  openeth 


ON  BOTH   SID  El    OF  THE   SEA.  -49 

the  door  of  light  and  life.''''  There  were  "  two  thirsts 
in  him,  after  the  creature  and  after  the  Lord,  the 
Creator."  At  length,  "  his  thirst  was  stilled  in  God," 
his  soul  was  "  wrapped  up  in  the  love  of  God,"  and 
when  storms  came  again,  "  his  still,  secret  belief 
was  stayed  firm ;  and  hope  underneath  held  him 
as  an  anchor  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  an 
chored  his  immortal  soul  to  Christ  its  Bishop,  caus- 
ing it  to  swim  above  the  sea  (the  world),  where  all 
raging  waves,  foul  weather,  tempests,  and  tempta- 
tions are." 

He  "  found  that  his  inward  distresses  had  come 
from  his  selfish  earthly  will,  which  could  not  give 
up  to  the  will  of  God,"  and  that  "  the  only  true  lib- 
erty is  the  liberty  of  subjection  in  the  spirit  to  God  ;" 
and  "his  sorrows  wore  off,  and  he  could  have  wept 
night  and  day  with  tears  of  joy  to  the  Lord,  in  hu- 
mility and  brokenness  of  heart." 

As  I  listened  to  him,  my  thoughts  ebbed  and 
flowed  within  me.  At  one  time  he  seemed  a  darin^ 
self-willed  youth,  netting  his  judgment  against  the 
world  ;  at  another,  as  a  simple  lowly  child  who  had 
listened  to  God,  and  must  obey  Him  and  none  else; 
again,  as  one  who  might  have  been  a  poet,  or  a  dis- 
coverer of  great  secrets  of  nature — so  inward  and 
penetrating  seemed  his  glimpse  into  the  heart  oi 
things;  and  again,  as  a  reformer  to  break  in  pieces 
the  empire  of  lies  throughout  the  Avorld. 

"  I  saw,"  said  he,  "  that  there  was  an  ocean  of 
darkness  and  death;  but  an  infinite  ocean  of  light 
arid  love  which  flowed  over  the  ocean  of  darkness." 

AgaiD,  "  one  morning  as  I  was  sitting  by  the  fire, 
13* 


l!t0  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

a  great  cloud  came  over  me,  and  a  temptation  beset 
me;  but  I  sate  still.  And  it  was  said,  'all  thing* 
come  by  nature;''  and  the  elements  and  stars  came 
over  me,  so  that  I  was  in  a  manner  quite  clouded 
-with  it.  But  as  I  sate  still  under  it,  and  let  it  alone, 
a  living  hope  arose  in  me,  and  a  true  voice,  which 
said,  There  is  a  living  God  who  made  all  things.  And 
immediately  the  cloud  and  temptation  vanished 
a^f  ay,  and  life  rose  over  it  all ;  my  heart  was  glad, 
and  I  praised  the  living  God.  After  some  time  I 
met  with  some  people  who  had  a  notion  that  there 
is  no  God,  but  that  all  things  come  by  nature.  I 
had  a  dispute  with  them,  and  made  some  of  them 
confess  there  is  a  living  God.  Then  I  saw  it  was 
good  I  had  gone  through  that  exercise." 

His  search  into  the  reality  of  people's  beliefs  led 
him  among  strange  people,  some  who  held  that 
"  women  have  no  more  soul  than  a  goose,"  whom 
he  answered  in  the  words  of  Mary,  "  My  soul  doth 
magnify  the  Lord  ;"  others  (Ranters)  whom  he  went 
to  visit  in  prison,  who  blasphemously  held  them- 
selves to  be  God. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  after  a  time  was  I  come  up  in 
spirit  into  the  Paradise  of  God.  All  things  were 
new ;  and  all  the  creation  gave  another  smell  unto 
me  than  before,  beyond  what  words  can  utter.  The 
creation  was  opened  unto  me,  and  it  was  showed 
me  how  all  things  had  their  names  given  them  ac- 
cording to  their  nature  and  virtue." 

Again,  "while  1  was  in  the  Vale  of  Beavor,  the 
Lord  opened  to  me  three  things,  in  relation  to  those 
three  great  professions  in  the  worH,  physic,  divinity 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  1$, 

(so  called),  and  law.  He  sLowed  uie  that  tlie  phy- 
sicians were  out  of  the  wisdom  of  God,  by  which 
the  creatures  were  made,  and  so  knew  not  their 
virtues ;  that  the  priests  were  out  of  the  true  faith 
a*  hich  purifies  and  gives  victory,  and  gives  access 
to  God ;  that  the  lawyers  were  out  of  the  tvuo 
equity.  I  felt  the  power  of  the  Lord  went  forth 
unto  all,  by  which  all  might  be  reformed ;  if  they 
would  bow  to  it.  The  priests  might  be  brought  to 
the  true  faith,  which  is  the  gift  of  God  ;  the  lawyers 
unto  the  true  law,  which  brings  to  love  one's  neigh- 
bour as  oneself,  and  lets  man  see  if  lie  wrongs  his 
neighbour  he  wrongs  himself;  the  physicians  unto 
the  wisdom  of  God,  the  Word  of  Wisdom,  by  which 
all  things  were  made  and  are  upheld.  For  as  all 
believe  in  the  light,  and  walk  in  the  light,  which 
Christ  hath  enlightened  every  man  that  cometh  into 
the  world  withal,  and  so  become  Children  of  the 
Light  and  of  the  Day  of  Christ; — in  His  Day  all 
tilings  are  seen,  visible  and  invisible,  by  the  divine 
light  of  Christ,  the  spiritual  heavenly  Man  by  whom 
all  things  were  created." 

Very  strange  words  those  seemed  to  me  for  so 
young  a  man.  At  first  I  felt  disposed  to  turn  from 
him  as  one  full  of  an  amazing  self-conceit,  lifting 
himself  up  above  all  in  church  and  the  world;  but 
I  remembered  what  my  husband  always  said  about 
trying  to  find  the  real  meaning  of  all  men.  And  as 
I  sate  still,  and  thought,  a  strange  depth  opened  ill 
those  words.  Something  true,  real,  and  eternal  (I 
thought  he  meant),  some  divine  meaning  lav  at  the 
reot  of  all  human  works,  and  states,  and  callings 


i52  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

By  this  they  stand,  and  live.     By  departing  from 
this  they  become  hollow,  and  at  last  crumble  away 
by  returning  to  this  they  are  reformed. 

He  spoke  also  of  the  whole  of  nature  and  history 
as  being  repeated  in  the  wonderful  world  within 
us.  Bow  the  spirit  has  its  Egypts  and  its  Sodom, 
and  its  wildernesses  and  its  Red  Seas;  its  Paradise 
and  its  mountains  of  the  Lord's  House;  its  Cains, 
and  Esaus,  and  Judases.  "Some  men,"  said  he, 
"  have  the  nature  of  swine  wallowing  in  the 
mire.  Some  the  nature  of  dogs,  to  bite  both  the 
sheep  and  one  another.  Some  of  lions  and  of 
wolves,  to  tear,  devour,  and  destroy  ;  some  of  ser- 
pents, to  sting,  envenom,  and  poison ;  some  of 
horses,  to  prance  and  vapour  in  their  strength,  and 
be  swift  in  doing  evil ;  some  of  tall  sturdy  oaks  to 
flourish  and  spread  in  wisdom  and  strength.  Thus 
the  evil  is  one  in  all,  but  worketh  many  ways ; 
therefore  take  heed  of  the  enemy  and  keep  in  the 
faith  of  Christ." 

These  thoughts  in  him  were  no  mere  visionary 
meditations,  revolving  on  themselves.  The  strange 
thing  in  him  was  the  blending  of  far-reaching 
mystical  thought  with  direct  and  most  practical 
action. 

"The  Lord,"  said  he,  "commanded  me  to  go 
abroad  unto  the  world,  which  was  like  a  briery 
thorny  wilderness  ;  and  when  I  came  iu  the  Lord's 
mighty  power  with  the  word  of  life  into  the  world, 
the  world  swelled  and  made  a  noise  like  the  great 
raging  waves  of  the  sea.  Priests  and  professors, 
magistrates  and  people,  were  all  like  the  sea  when 


ON  BOTH    SIDES  OF   THE  SEA.  15, 

I  came  to  proclaim  the  day  of  the  Lord  among 
them,  nnd  to  preach  repentance  to  them." 

His  preaching  places  wore  no  secluded  chambers, 
or  conventional  religious  assemblies,  but  the  mar- 
ket-place, the  "  sitting  of  justices  to  hire  servants," 
schools,  firesides,  sea-shores  where  wreckers  watched, 
and,  at  times,  the  very  "  steeple-houses  "  where  the 
"false  priests"  seemed  to  him  "a  lump  of  clay  set 
up  in  the  pulpit  above  a  dead  fallow  ground." 

By  preaching  repentance  he  did  not  mean  crying 
out  in  general  that  sin  was  evil.  He  meant,  like 
him  who  preached  in  the  Desert  of  old,  pointing 
out  to  each  man,  and  class  of  men,  their  particular 
sins,  telling  magistrates  to  judge  justly,  tradesmen 
to  have  no  false  weights  and  measures,  Cornish 
wreckers  to  save  wrecked  ships  and  shelter  wrecked 
men,  masters  not  to  oppress  servants,  servants  to 
serve  honestly,  soldiers  to  do  violence  to  no  man, 
excisemen  to  make  no  inequitable  demands, 
"  priests  "  to  speak  the  truth. 

And  the  results  of  his  preaching  were  two-fold  : 
everywhere  priests,  excisemen,  soldiers,  masters, 
tradesmen,  and  magistrates  were  enraged,  seized 
him,  beat  and  bruised  an  1  trampled  on  him,  threw 
him  into  prisons  ;  and  everywhere  some  ministers, 
soldiers,  tradesmen,  and  magistrates,  and  even  his 
jailer  listened,  gave  up  their  false  weights,  or  m- 
js'^rt  dealings,  and  sought  to  live  uprightly  before 
God. 

After  this  discourse  there  was  silent  prayer,  and 
the  good  couple  insisted  on  yielding  up  their  own 
bed  in  the  upper  chamber  to  Annie  and  me,  and 


1^4-  0lV  B0TH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

the  babes.  But  it  was  far  on  in  the  nigrht  before  \ 
could  sleej).  And  in  my  sleep  I  had  strange  eon 
fused  dreams  of  John  the  Baptist  in  the  wilderness 
of  a  madhouse,  full  of  Quakers  clothed  in  camels 
hair  with  leathern  girdles;  and  of  the  world  shining- 
in  a  wondrous  light,  neither  of  sun  nor  moon,  1'hich 
made  it  like  Paradise. 

In  the  morning  the  poor  people  of  the  house  set 
us  on  our  way  with  great  loving-kindness,  and  I 
had  much  ado  to  make  them  take  any  recompense. 
And  I  have  always  been  thankful  that  through  this 
interview  I  learned  to  distinguish  those  whom 
many  confound — the  Ranters,  Fifth  Monarchy  men, 
and  other  lawless  fanatics — from  the  true  Quakers, 
or  (as  they  would  be  called)  "  Friends  of  truth." 

After  that  we  had  no  adventures  until  we  reach- 
ed Kidderminster. 

Our  way  lay  past  many  ruins  of  unroofed  cot- 
tages, with  their  blackened  walls  deserted  and  bare ; 
gardens  of  herbs  running  wild,  and  orchards  still 
flourishing,  and  overhanging  with  pleasant  fruit  the 
open  and  broken  casements  of  the  charred  and 
ruined  homestead ;  here  and  there  a  stately  castle 
or  mansion  battered  and  breached  by  cannon, 
while  choice  flowers  still  bloomed  in  patches  on 
the  trampled  terraces  or  round  the  broken  foiu> 
tains,  where  fair  hands  had  tended  them. 

In  the  heat  of  the  day  we  rested.  But  wondrous 
pleasant  were  the  sights  we  saw  and  the  sounds  -,ve 
heard  as  we  journeyed  through  the  land  through 
those  summer  morr.s  and  eves;  the  pleasant  old 
country,  well-watered  everywhere  with  broad   still 


ON  BOTH   SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  l5j 

rivers  among  the  meadows,  and  little  talking  brookd 
among  the  woods,  orchards,  and  corn-fields;  and 
soft  waving  sweeps  of  hill  and  valley,  all  smooth 
and  green,  as  if  the  waters  of  the  great  sin-flood 
of  old  had  never  torn  and  convulsed  them,  but  only 
gently  heaved  and  rippled  over  them.  And  as  »ve 
neared  Kidderminster,  far  off  on  either  side  rose 
two  ranges  of  hills,  with  blue  peaks  pointing  to  the 
sky  like  church-roofs,  the  Malverns  and  the  hills  of 
Wales. 

Again  and  again,  now,  as  I  read  godly  Mr.  Bun 
yan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  pictures  of  what  I  saw  on 
that  journey  in  old  England  rise  before  me — the 
"  river  with  the  green  trees  on  its  banks ;"  the 
"  meadow  curiously  beautified  with  lilies,  and  green 
all  the  year  long  ;"  the  "  tempting  stile  into  By- 
path Meadow ;"  the  "  hills  with  gardens  and  orchards 
and  fountains  of  waters ;"  the  "  delicate  plain  called 
Ease ;"  the  valley  of  humiliation,  "  green  through 
the  summer;  fat  ground,  consisting  much  ir  mea- 
dows," with  its  "pleasant  air;"  the  "fruit-trees, 
with  their  mellow  fruit,  which  shot  over  the  garden 
walls  ;"  the  Delectable  Mountains,  not  too  high  and 
savage  for  the  shepherds  to  fold  their  flocks  thereon. 
I  can  remember,  also,  many  a  Hill  Difficulty,  up 
which  our  horses  slowly  toiled,  and  Sloughs  of 
Despond  through  which  they  struggled.  But  the 
"  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death"  had  nothing  out- 
ward in  that  pleasant  land  to  picture  it.  Out  of 
tie  dark  and  rugged  depths  of  his  own  despair, 
John  Buuyan  created  a  landscape  he  never  couhj 
have  seen. 


t56  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

I  was  the  sole  observer  of  these  things  among 
:iur  little  band  :  the  babe  saw  little  but  me;  Maidio 
saw  nothing  of  hills  and  woods,  the  wild  roses  and 
honeysuckles  Ave  gathered  for  her  were  the  channels 
through  which  the  beauty  of  the  world  stole  into 
her  heart,  as  it  did,  making  her  clap  her  hands  and 
laugh  with  delight  as  we  rode;  the  serving-man, 
beina:  a  Londoner,  thought  scorn  of  the  woods  and 
lanes  as  very  barbarous  and  ill-made  places  com- 
pared with  Cheapside  with  its  wares  and  signs : 
and  Annis,  if  she  saw  the  outward  world  at  all, 
beheld  it  but  as  the  mystical  mirror  of  the  world 
within,  the  waters  of  quietness  and  trees  of  heal- 
ing among  which  her  spirit  dwelt. 

And  so  at  last,  on  the  seventh  dav  after  leaving 
home,  we  came  to  a  valley  on  the  slopes  of  which 
rise  the  houses  of  Kidderminster,  on  each  side  of 
the  river  Stour — "the  church  on  the  brow  above 
the  water,"  as  they  say  the  name  signifies  in  the  old 
tong-ies,  British  and  Saxon,  which  were  spoken 
when  first  men  began  to  make  houses  there. 

Rich  old  English  names ;  every  name  (like  the 
old  minsters  of  our  land)  in  itself  a  poem,  with 
histories  imbedded  in  every  syllable  ! 

Fondly  we  transfer  the  familiar  old  words  to  new 
place?  in  this  New  World.  But  here  alas,  as  ye\ 
they  are  no  living,  growing  words, — only  poor  pa- 
thetic relics  or  arbitrary  symbols  ;  at  least,  until 
generations  to  come  shall  have  breathed  into  therr 
the  new  significances  of  ?  new  human  history. 


Chapter  V". 


OLIVE    S    RECOLLECTIONS. 


T  was  evening  when  we  entered  the  old 
town  of  Kidderminster.  As  we  rodo 
along  the  street  to  Aunt  Dorothy's  house, 
many  of  the  casements  were  open  to  let 
in  cool  summer  evening  air;  and  from  one  and  an- 
other, as  we  passed,  rose  the  music  of  the  psalm 
sung  at  the  family-worship,  the  voices  of  the  little 
ones  softly  blending  with  the  deeper  tones  of  the 
father  and  mother,  or  the  trembling  treble  of  age. 

It  was  a  heavenly  welcome ;  and,  by  an  irresist- 
ible impulse,  I  dismounted,  for,  wearied  as  I  was 
with  the  journey,  I  felt  it  a  kind  of  irreverence  not 
to  walk.  It  was  like  going  up  the  aisle  of  a  great 
church.  The  whole  town  seemed  a  house  of  prayer. 
Tsone  of  these  sweet  musical  sounds,  however, 
came  out  of  Aunt  Dorothy's  windows  as,  at  length, 
we  stopped  at  her  door ;  although  the  casements 
were  open.  But,  as  we  paused  before  trying  to 
enter,  I  heard  the  cadences  of  a  soft  voice  reading 
in  an  upper  chamber.  I  tried  the  latch,  found  it 
opftn,  and,  softly  mouni  ing  the  stairs,  through  a  bed 

,157)  *" 


1  5 8  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

room  door,  which  stood  slightly  ajar,  I  saw  a  grave 
man,  habited  like  a  minister,  with  a  broad  collar, 
and  closely-fitting  cap  on  his  head,  sitting  at  a  table 
with  an  open  Bible  before  him.  By  his  side  stood 
a  little  serving-maiden,  whom  at  the  moment  he 
was  questioning  in  simple  language,  in  a  calm,  per- 
suasive voice  and  with  a  remarkably  clear  utterance, 
while  she  answered  without  fear.  His  form  was 
slight,  and  his  gait  slightly  stooping ;  his  face  worn 
and  grave,  yet  not  unfrequently  "tending  to  a 
smile,"  and  always  lighted  up  by  his  dark,  keen, 
observant  eyes.  This,  I  felt,  could  be  no  other  than 
Mr.  Baxter.  Altogether  the  face  made  me  think 
of  portraits  of  saintly  monks,  worn  with  fasting  and 
prayer,  save  that  the  eyes  were  quick  and  piercing 
rather  than  contemplative;  as  if  he  saw,  not  dreams 
and  visions  of  Christendom  in  general,  but  just  the 
liitle  bit  of  it  he  had  to  do  with  at  the  moment,  in 
the  person  of  Aunt  Dorothy's  little  maid.  When 
the  little  maid  had  answered,  he  turned  with  a  look 
of  approval  to  some  one  out  of  sight,  whom  T 
knew  must  be  Aunt  Dorothy.  Judging  from  the 
fact  of  the  catechizing  beino-  held  in  her  chamber, 
that  she  would  be  equal  to  seeing  me,  and  that 
therefore  I  had  better  appear  in  an  ordinary  way,  I 
crept  softly  down-stairs  again,  and  knocked  at  the 
house-door. 

Aunt  Dorothy  was  much  moved  at  my  coming; 
although  in  words  she  only  vouchsafed  a  grave  re- 
monstrance. And  I  was  no  less  moved  to  see  how 
feeble  and  shrunken  she  looked.  She  had  beer, 
much  enfeebled  by  an  attack  of  low  fever    and  al 


ON  BOTH   SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  ,    « 

though  professing  to  make  little  of  it,  like  m.>st 
people  unaccustomed  to  illness  she  believed  herself 
much  worse  than  she  really  was,  and  had,  dear  soul, 
gone  in  spirit  pathetically  through  her  own  funeral, 
with  the  effect  so  soleniii  an  event  might  be  hoped 
to  have  on  the  hearts  of  her  misguided  kinsmen  and 
kinswomen. 

"  Olive,  my  dear,"  sh"  said  to  me,  on  the  morning 
after  our  arrival,  after  directing  me  where  to  find 
her  will,  and  a  letter  ^ne  had  written,  "  thou  wilt 
find  I  had  not  forgotten  thy  babes,  nor  indeed  any 
of  my  kindred,  unnatural  as  no  doubt  they  think 
me.  I  wish  the  letter  t~  be  given  to  your  father  at 
once,  immediately  after  all  is  over.  My  example 
and  arguments  have  hud  little  weight ;  but  it  may 
be  otherwise  then.  I  have  no  physician  but  good 
Mr.  Baxter,  who  is  physician  both  for  body  and 
soul  to  his  people.  He  hath  endeavoured  to  re- 
assure me;  but  I  know  what  that  means.  And 
yesterday  he  gave  me  his  'Saint's  Rest,'  which,  of 
course,  is  only  a  considerate  way  of  preparing  me 
for  the  end." 

All  through  that  week  Aunt  Dorothy  continued 
marvellously  meek  and  gentle,  her  grave  eyes  moist- 
ening tenderly  as  she  looked  on  the  babes.  She 
cjinn.  ;nded  Annis  as  a  maiden  of  a  modest  counte- 
nance and  lowly  carriage.  (I  had  not  ventured  to 
inform  her  of  Annis's  peculiar  belief.)  She  spoke 
tenderly  of  every  one,  and  agreed  as  far  as  possible 
with  everything ;  which  last  symptom  I  did  feel 
alarming. 

The  kindness  and  sympathy  of  the  neighbours 


6o  0.V  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 

were  so  great,  that  it  seemed  to  me  their  evening 
psalm  was  only  the  musical  Amen  to  the  psalm  they 
had  lived  all  day.  One  brought  us  possets,  another 
dainty  meats,  another  confections  for  the  babes; 
others  would  watch  in  the  sick-chamber  at  night ; 
another  sent  for  the  babes  to  play  with  her  own,  to 
keep  the  house  quiet.  If  we  gave  thanks,  they  said 
Mr.  Baxter  "thought  nothing  of  godliness  which 
did  not  show  itself  in  goodness."  Another  told  us 
how  Aunt  Dorothy  had  been  borne  on  their  hearts 
at  the  Thursday  prayer-meeting  at  Mr.  Baxter's  ; 
and  more  than  one  came  to  "  repeat  to  us  Mr.  Bax- 
ter's last  Sunday  sermon;"  repeating  Mr.  Baxter's 
sermon  (he  only  preached  one  on  Sunday)  being  a 
great  ordinance  at  Kidderminster.  Never  before 
did  I  understand  so  fully  what  the  meaning  of  the 
word  church  is,  or  the  meaning  of  the  word  pastor. 
Before  I  came  to  Kidderminster  I  had  thought  of 
Mr.  Baxter  as  a  godly  man,  rather  fond  of  debate, 
and  very  unjust  to  Oliver  Cromwell  (as  I  still  hold 
him  to  have  been).  After  staying  there  that  week, 
I  learned  that  if  the  joys  of  fighting  (syllogistically) 
were  his  favourite  recreation  (which,  in  spite  of  all 
his  protestations,  I  think  they  were,  for  a  true  Iron- 
sides' soul  dwelt  in  that  slight  and  suffering  body) ; 
his  work  was  teaching  little  children,  seeking  the 
lost,  bringing  back  the  wandering,  supporting  the 
weak, — all  that  is  meant  by  being  "shepherd"  and 
"ensample"  to  the  flock;  going  before  them  in 
every  good  and  generous  work,  going  after  them 
into  every  depth  of  misery,  if  only  he  could  bring 
them  home. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  161 

As  I  sat  by  the  window  of  the  sick-chamber  where 
I  could  see  Mr.  Baxter's  house  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street,  with  the  people  going  in  to  consult 
him,  the  poor  patients  sometimes  waiting  by  twenty 
at  a  time  at  his  door,  and  a  pleasant  stir  of  welcome 
all  down  the  street  when  his  "  thin  and  lean  and 
weak"  figure  passed  out  and  along,  Aunt  Dorothy 
loved  to  discourse  to  me  of  him.  She  told  me  how 
in  his  childhood  he  had  lived  in  a  village  called 
Eaton  Constantine,  near  the  Wrekin  Hill,  in  a  rus- 
tical region,  where  Ave  Marys  still  lingered  with 
paternosters  in  the  peasants'  prayers  ;  where  the 
clergyman,  being  about  eighty  years  of  age,  with 
failing  eye-sight,  and  having  two  churches,  twenty 
miles  distant,  under  his  charge,  used  to  say  the 
Common  Prayer  without  book  ;  and  got  "  one  year 
a  thresher,  or  common  day-labourer,  another  a  tai- 
lor, and  after  that  a  kinsman  of  his,  who  was  a  stage- 
player  and  gamester,  to  read  the  psalms  and  chap- 
ters." Mr.  Baxter's  father,  "  having  been  addicted 
to  jjfamino;,  had  entangled  his  freehold  estate ;  but 
it  pleased  God  to  instruct  and  change  him  by  the 
bare  reading  of  the  Scriptures  in  private,  without 
either  preaching  or  godly  company,  or  any  other 
books,  so  that  his  serious  speeches  of  God  and  the 
lifi  to  come  very  early  possessed  his  son  with  a  fear 
of  sinning.'"  For  reading  the  Scripture  on  the  Sun- 
days, when  others  were  dancing,  by  royal  order, 
round  the  May-pole,  he  was  called  a  "Puritan." 

Good  books  were  the  means  of  Richard  Baxter's 
early  teaching,  though  when  his  "sincere  convcr 
sion"  began  he  was  never  aFe  to  say.    One  of'thes* 
14* 


,t2  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

books  (to  Aunt  Dorothy's  perplexity)  was  by  a 
Jesuit;  another  was  "Sibbes'  Bruised  Reed;" 
brought  by  a  poor  pedler  and  ballad- seller  to  the 
door"  another  was  a  "little  piece"  of  Mr.  Perkin's 
works,  which  a  servant  in  the  house  had.  For  all 
that  while  (Mr.  Baxter  had  told  her)  neither  he  nor 
his  father  had  acquaintance  with  any  that  "had  un- 
derstanding in  matters  of  religion,  nor  ever  heard 
any  pray  extempore."  Their  prayers  were  chiefly 
the  Confession  in  the  Prayer-book,  and  one  of  Brad- 
ford, the  martyr's,  prayers. 

But  Mr.  Baxter  deemed  his  own  sicknesses  and 
infirmities  to  have  been  among  the  chief  means  of 
grace  to  him.  "The  calls  of  approaching  death  on 
one  side,  and  the  questioning  of  a  doubtful  con- 
science on  the  other  hand,  kept  his  soul  awake." 

His  doubts  were  many ;  for  instance,  "  whether  a 
base  fear  did  not  move  him  more  than  a  son's  love 
to  God,"  and  "because  his  grief  and  humiliation 
were  no  greater ;"  until,  at  last,  he  understood  that 
"God  breaketh  not  all  men's  hearts  alike;  that  the 
change  of  our  heart  from  sin  to  God  is  true  repent- 
ance ;  and  that  he  that  had  rather  leave  his  sin  than 
have  leave  to  keep  it,  and  that  had  rather  be  the 
most  holy,  than  have  leave  to  be  unholy  or  less  holy, 
is  neither  without  repentance  nor  the  love  of  God." 

His  diseases  were  more  than  his  doubts,  and  hia 
physicians  more  (and  belike  more  dangerous)  than 
his  diseases.  He  had  thirty-six  physicians,  by  whose 
orders  he  took  drugs  without  number,  which,  said 
he,  "God  thoight  not  fit  to  make  successful;" 
whereupon  at  last  he  forsook  the  physicians  alto 


CN  BOTH   SIDES  OF   THE  SEA.  163 

aether.  Under  which  circumstances  he  had  doubt- 
less  reason  to  count  it  among  his  mercies  (as  he  did) 
that  lie  was  never  overwhelmed  with  "real  melan- 
choly." "For  years,"  as  he  said,  "rarely  a  quarter 
of  an  hour's  ease,  yet  (through  God's  mercy)  never 
an  hour's  melancholy,  nor  many  hours  in  the  week 
disabled  from  work." 

Mr.  Baxter's  being  so  much  indebted  to  good 
books  as  his  teachers  and  comforters,  was  perhaps 
partly  the  renson  why  he  wrote  so  many.  Of  his 
"Saint's  Rest"  he  himself  said:  "  Whilst  I  was  in 
health  I  had  not  the  least  thought  of  writing  books, 
or  of  serving  God  in  any  more  public  way  than 
preaching;  but  when  I  was  weakened  with  great 
bleeding,  and  left  solitary  in  my  chamber  at  Sir 
John  Cook's  in  Derbyshire,  without  any  aquaintance 
but  my  servant  about  me,  and  sentenced  to  death 
by  the  physicians,  I  began  to  contemplate  moi-e  seri- 
ously on  the  everlasting  rest  which  I  believed  my- 
self to  be  on  the  borders  of."  He  originally  in- 
tended it  to  be  no  more  than  the  length  of  one  01 
two  sermons;  but  the  weakness  being  long  con- 
tinued, the  book  was  enlarged.  The  first  and  last 
parts  being  for  his  own  use  were  written  first,  and 
then  the  second  and  third.  It  was  written  with  no 
books  at  hand  but  a  Bible  and  a  Concordance,  and 
he  found  that  "  the  transcript  of  the  heart  hath  the 
greatest  force  on  the  hearts  of  others;"  and  for  the 
good  he  had  heard  that  multitudes  have  received 
by  that  writing,  he  humbly  thanked  "Him  that 
compelled  him  to  it." 

A  history  which  interested  me  much  ;  for  I  de 


1 64  ON  BOTh    SIDES   OF   THE  SEA 

litrht  to  think  of  books  I  love  as  growing  in  this  and 
that  unexpected  Avay  from  little  unnoticed  seeds, 
like  living  creatures,  not  as  constructed  deliberately 
from  outside,  like  a  thing  made  by  hands.  Doth 
not  John  Milton  say  that  a  good  book  is  t;  the  pre- 
cious life-blood  of  a  master  spirit,  embalmed  and 
treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life  beyond  life ;  so 
that  he  who  destroys  a  good  book  commits  not  so 
much  a  murder  as  a  massacre,  and  slays  an  immor- 
tality rather  than  a  life." 

Much  also  Aunt  Dorothy  had  to  say  of  Mr.  Bax- 
ter's good  works ;  how  out  of  his  narrow  income  he 
contrived  to  send  promising  young  men  to  the  uni- 
versity, and  to  relieve  the  destitute  without  stint, 
"  having  ever  more  to  give,"  he  said,  "  as  he  gave 
more;"  how  he  had  been  the  physician  of  his  people, 
fighting  against  their  sicknesses  as  well  as  their 
sins;  how  the  old  were  moved  by  him,  who  had 
never  been  moved  before,  and  little  children  were 
stirred  by  his  eloquent  entreaties,  and  trained  by 
his  patient  teaching,  so  that  t'iey  brought  the  light 
of  love  and  godliness  into  many  a  home  which  be- 
fore had  been  all  darkness. 

She  said  Mr.  Baxter  was  wont  humbly  to  attrib- 
ulc  the  wonderful  efficacy  of  his  ministry  to  many 
causes  rather  than  to  any  peculiar  power  in  his 
words;  to  the  following  among  others  : — 

1.  That  "the  people  had  never  had  any  awaken- 
ing ministry  before,  and  therefore  were  not  sermon- 
proof  ' 

2.  The  infirmity  of  his  health.  That  "as  he  had 
naturally  a  familiar,  moving  voice,  and  doinaj  all  in 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  165 

bDcIil)  weakness  as  a  dyir  g  man,  his  soul  was  more 
easily  brought  to  seriousness,  and  to  preach  as  a 
dvins:  man  to  dying  men." 

3.  That  many  of  the  bitter  enemies  to  gculineS3, 
"in  their  very  hatred  of  Puritans,"  had  gone  into 
the  king's  armies,  and  "  were  quickly  killed." 

4.  The  change  made  in  public  affairs  by  the  suc- 
cess of  the  wars;  "which  (said  Mr.  Baxter),  how- 
ever it  was  done,  and  though  much  corrupted  by 
the  usurpers,  yet  removed  many  impediments  to 
men's  salvation.  Before,  godliness  was  the  way  to 
shame  and  ruin  ;  but  though  Cromwell  gave  liberty 
to  all  sects,  and  did  not  set  up  any  party  alone,  by 
force,  yet  this  much  gave  abundant  advantage  to 
the  gospel ;  especially  considering  that  godliness 
now  had  countenance  and  reputation  also  as  well  as 
liberty;  and  such  liberty  (even  under  a  usurper)  r*s 
never  before  since  the  gospel  came  into  the  land  did 
it  possess.  And"  (said  he)  "much  as  I  have  writ- 
ten against  licentiousness  in  religion,  and  the  power 
of  the  magistrate  in  it,  yet,  in  comparison  of  the  rest 
of  the  world,  I  think  that  land  happy  that  hath  but 
bare  liberty  to  be  as  good  as  they  are  willing  to  be.  and 
toleration  for  truth  to  bear  down  her  adversaries."" 

5.  Another  advantage  was  the  zeal,  diligence, 
the  holy,  humble,  blameless  lives,  and  the  Christian 
concord  of  the  religious  sort. 

6.  The  private  meetings  for  prayer,  repetitions, 
and  asking  questions,  and  his  personal  intercourse 
with  every  family  apart. 

7.  Being  able  to  give  his  writings,  and  especially 
a  Bible,  to  every  family  that  had  none. 


1^,6  OJ   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

8.  That  the  trade  of  the  weaving  of  Kiddermin- 
ster stuffs  enabled  them  to  set  a  Bible  on  the  loom 
before  them,  wherewith  to  edify  one  another  while 
at  their  work.  For  (thought  Mr.  Baxter)  "  free- 
holders and  tradesmen  are  the  strength  of  religion 
and  civility  in  the  land,  and  gentlemen  {idle  men, 
1  think  he  meant)  and  beggars  the  strength  of  in- 
iquity.1' 

9.  His  own  single  life,  "  enabling  him  the  easilier 
to  take  his  people  for  his  children." 

10.  That  God  made  great  nse  of  sickness  to  dfl 
good  to  many:  and  then  of  Mr.  Baxter's  practice 
of  physic  ;  at  once  recovering  their  health  and  mov- 
ing their  souls. 

11.  The  quality  of  the  wicked  people  of  the  place, 
who,  "  being  chiefly  drunkards,  would  roar  and  rave 
in  the  streets  like  stark  madmen,  and  so  make  that 
sin  abhorred." 

12.  The  assistance  of  good  ministers  around. 

To  these  things,  and  such  as  these,  said  Aunt 
Dorothy,  Mr.  Baxter  loved  to  attribute  those  con- 
versions which  "  at  first  he  used  to  count  up  aa 
jewels,  but  of  which  afterwards  he  could  not  keep 
any  number." 

All  this  made  me  greatly  desire  the  time  when  I 
might  hear  Mr.  Baxter  preach  ;  and,  at  last,  on  the 
second  Sunday  after  our  arrival,  x\unt  Dorothy  in- 
sisted on  my  going  to  church. 

The  only  perplexity  was  Annis  Nye.  However, 
1  trusted  that  Aunt  Dorothy's  subdued  frame  of 
mind,  and  Annis's  being  busy  with  the  babes  or  iu 
the  kitchen,  would  avej-t  a  collision. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  BEA.  167 

The  sermon  went  far  to  explain  tome  Kiddermin- 
ster and  Mr.  Baxter.  But  no  written  words  will 
ever  explain  to  those  who  did  not  hear  them  what 
his  sermons  were. 

The  pulpit  was  at  once  Mr.  Baxter's  hearth,  his 
throne,  and  his  true  battle-field :  the  central  hearth 
at  which  the  piety  of  every  fireside  in  Kiddermin- 
ster was  weekly  enkindled  ;  the  throne  from  which 
the  hearts  of  men  and  women,  old  men  and  little 
children,  were  swayed ;  the  battle-field  where  he 
fought,  not  so  much  against  sectaries  and  misbeliefs, 
but  against  sin  and  unbelief.  He  was  at  home  there, 
close  to  every  heart  there  ;  yet  at  home  as  a  father 
among  his  children.  All  that  he  was,  turn  by  turn, 
through  the  week — pleading,  teaching,  exhorting, 
consoling,  from  house  to  house — he  was  in  the  pul- 
pit altogether ;  but  with  the  difference  between 
glow  and  flame,  between  speech  and  song  ;  between 
a  man  calmly  using  his  faculties  one  by  one  and  a 
man  with  his  whole  soul  awake  and  on  fire,  and 
concentrated  into  one  burning  desire  to  save  men 
and  make  them  holy  ;  with  a  message  to  deliver, 
which  he  knew  could  do  both.  His  eye  enkindled, 
his  face  illumined,  his  whole  emaciated  frame  quiv- 
ering with  emotion  as  he  leant  over  the  pulpit,  and 
spoke  to  every  heart  in  the  church. 

"  Though  we  speak  not  unto  you  as  men  would 
do  that  had  seen  heaven  and  hell,  and  were  the:n- 
Bolvea  perfectly  awake,"  he  said.  But  it  seemed  to 
me  as  if  he  had  seen  heaven  and  hell  (or  rather  feli 
them) ;  and  as  if,  while  I  listened  to  him,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  my  soul  was  "  perfectly  awake  " 
all  through. 

C3 


■>8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

And  of  all  this,  the  next  generation,  and  those 
\  ho  never  heard  him  in  this,  will  know  nothing  { 
1  .stead,  they  will  have  one  hundred  and  sixty  little 
biX)ks  and  treatises,  out  of  which  they  may  vainly 
stiive  to  piece  together  what  Mr.  Baxter  was  dur- 
ing those  fourteen  most  fruitful  years  of  his  minis- 
try dt  Kidderminster.  But  even  if  they  could  put 
the  fragments  together  right,  they  would  only  have 
creatod  an  image  of  clay.  And  most  likely  they 
will  piece  them  together  wrong  (as  I  did  before  I 
knew  him).  And  then  they  will  wonder  at  the 
clumsy  image,  and  wonder  what  gentlemen  of  the 
neighbourhood,  trained  in  universities,  in  counts, 
and  in  armies,  and  at  the  same  time  the  poor  weav- 
ers of  Kidderminster,  and  the  nailers  of  Dudlev, 
who  clustered  round  the  doors  and  windows  when 
he  preached,  could  find  in  his  words  so  beautiful 
and  so  mo  vino;. 

Most  words,  written  or  spoken,  are  perhaps  more 
spoken  to  one  generation  than  men  like  to  think. 
If  the  next  generation  read  them,  it  is  not  so  much 
as  living  words  to  move  themselves,  but  as  lifeless 
effigies  of  what  moved  their  fathers.  But  with 
great  oi-ators  this  must  be  especially  the  case,  and 
with  great  preachers  more  perhaps  than  with  other 
orators.  Nor  need  they  complain.  Their  words 
reach  far  enough,  moving  hearts  Avhose  repenting? 
move  the  angels  in  the  presence  of  God.  They  live 
long  enough  :  on  high,  in  the  deathless  souls  thev 
awaken  ;  on  earth,  in  the  undying  influence  from 
heart  to  heart,  from  age  to  age,  of  the  holy  live* 
they  inspire. 


ON  LOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA  169 

The  large  old  eturch  was  thronged  to  the  exirem 
ity  of  the  five  new  galleries  which  had  been  built 
since   Mr.   Baxter   preached,  to  accommodate   the 
congregation. 

When  he  ceased  speaking,  there  was  a  long  hush, 
as  of  reluctance  to  supersede  the  last  tones  of  that 
persuasive  voice  by  any  other  sound. 

And  as  the  congregation  gently  dispersed,  that 
sacred  hush  seemed  on  thein  still.  They  were 
treasuring  up  the  words  wherewith  they  would 
strengthen  themselves  and  each  other  during  the 
week  ;  the  housewife  keeping  them  in  her  heart 
like  a  song  from  heaven  ;  ike  weaver,  as  he  worked 
with  his  open  Bible  before  him  on  the  loom,  seeing 
them  shine  on  its  verses  like  the  fingers  of  a  dis- 
criminating  sunbeam. 

As  I  came  home,  I  remember  feeling  not  so  much 
as  if  I  had  been  in  a  church  wdiere  something  good 
had  been  said,  as  in  a  battle-field  where  something 
great  had  been  done.  Death-blows  had  been  given 
to  cherished  sins  ;  angels  of  hell  had  been  despoiled 
of  their  false  "  armour  of  light,"  and  compelled  to 
appear  in  their  own  hideous  shrunken  shapes  ;  hid- 
den faults  had  been  dragged  from  their  ambush  in 
the  heart,  and  smitten  ;  the  joints  of  armour,  deemed 
impervious,  had  been  pierced  at  a  venture  ;  the  pow- 
ers of  darkness  had  been  defeated  by  being  detected: 
the  powers  of  light  had  been  aroused,  refreshed, 
arrayed  in  UA'der  of  battle,  and  sent  on  their  war- 
hue,  strengthened  and  cheered,  as  the  Ironsides  by 
the  voice  of  Oliver.  A  battle  had  been  fought,  and 
a  campaign  set  in  order,  and  the  combatants  inspired 
15 


,70  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF.  THE  SEA. 

for  fresh  conflicts.  As  those  living  words  echoed 
in  my  heart,  all  the  conflicts  of  armies  and  poll* 
ticians  seemed  mere  shadow}-  repetitions  (like  the 
battles  in  the  Elysian  shades)  of  that  eternal  es?en 
tial  conflict  between  good  and  evil  waged  unceas- 
ingly within  and  around  us. 

I  remember  that  Aunt  Dorothy's  first  words  to 
me,  when  I  returned,  sounded  as  if  they  came  up 
to  me  on  a  sunny  height,  from  a  strange  voice  in 
some  dim  region  far  below. 

She  said, — 

"  Olive,  dear  heart,  it  rejoices  me  that  you  have 
such  a  discerning  young  woman  to  serve  you.  She 
is,  I  deny  not,  a  trifle  rustical,  and  needs  instruc- 
tion as  to  gestures  and  forms  of  address,  but,  at 
least,  she  is  able  to  perceive  how  sadly  poor  Gene- 
ral Cromwell  has  been  seduced  from  the  ways  of 
humility  and  uprightness,  and  has  failed  in  protect- 
ing the  people  of  God." 

Nevertheless,  these  words  were  not  without  some- 
thing consolatory  in  them  for  me.  Much  as  Aunt 
Dorothy  and  Annis  had,  belike,  misunderstood  one 
another  as  to  what  they  meant  by  the  "  people  of 
God  "  whom  the  Captain-General  failed  to  protect, 
it  was  evident  they  were  still  so  far  on  friend* y  re- 
lations with  each  other.  And  it  was  also  plain  to 
me  that  Aunt  Dorothy's  militant  faculty  (and  there- 
fore she  herself)  was  recovering. 

A  very  opportune  improvement.  For  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  came  letters  from  Roger  and  Job  For- 
Bter  announcing  the  battle  of  Dunbar,  which  those 
who  fought  it  looked  on  as  an  act  of  the  great  war 


OK  BOTH   SIDES    OF    THE  SEA. 


171 


tare  between  good  and  evil,  as  truly  as  any  of 
Mr.  Baxter's  preachings.  In  which  belief  Aunt 
Dorothy  and  Mr.  Baxter  agreed  with  them ;  but 
not  as  to  thesides  on  which  the  combatants  were 
ranged. 

The  first  letter  from  Dunbar  was  from  Roarer, 
dated  September  2nd  : — 

"A  word  to  thee,  Olive,  my  sister,  by  the  post 
who  is  to  carry  letters  for  the  Lord-General.     Ill 
news  travel  fast,  and  if  such  have  reached  thee 
before  these,  I  would  have  thee  know,  though  our 
case  is  low  enough,  our  hearts  are  not  daunted. 

"  I  write  in  my  tent  on  my  knee — wind  and  rain 
driving  across  this  wild  tongue  of  land,  dashing  the 
waves  against  the  rocks,  whistling  through  the  long 
grasses  of  the  marshes,  as  in  the  sedges  by  old 
Netherby  Mere.  Nothing  to  do  but  to  keep  our 
powder  dry,  if  we  can,  and  pray. 

"  The  enemy  think  us  caught  in  a  worse  Pound 
than  my  Lord  Essex  at  Fowey.  Even  the  General 
thinks  little  less  than  a  miracle  can  save  us.  But 
maybe  the  miracle  is  wrought  already  in  the  courage 
of  our  men,  without  a  grain  of  earthly  food  to  sus- 
tain it ;  the  miracles  of  the  New  Covenant  being, 
for  the  most  part,  inward. 

"For  months  wTe  have  been  watching  them  up 
and  down  the  hills  and  the  shores  round  Edinburgh. 
yet  never  able  to  tempt  them  to  a  battle.  And  now 
they  deem  us  trapped  and  doomed,  which  may  work 
to  better  purpose  on  them  than  our  challenges.  To 
all  appearance  their  boastings  are  justified. 


l72  OX   BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

"The  ships  we  hasted  into  this  '  trap '  to  meet 
(sorely  needing  fresh  victuals),  are  nowhere  in  sight. 
Through  his  knowledge  of  the  country,  the  enemy 
baf_  possessed  himself  of  all  the  passes  between  n* 
and  England.  His  army  is  on  the  hill  above  us, 
twenty-three  thousand  strong,  with  veteran  geno- 
rals,  threatening  to  sweep  down,  and  with  '  one 
shower,  wash  us  out  of  the  country.' 

"  We  with  but  eleven  thousand  to  meet  them. 
Many  of  ours  lying  sick  in  the  town  of  Dunbar. 

"  In  all  Scotland  not  another  stronghold  is 
tfSrs. 

"  Among  them  is  the  shout  of  a  king,  '  a  Cove- 
fiijanted  king  ;'  whatever  strength  may  lie  in  that ! 
Many  of  their  soldiers  godly  men  and  brave. 

"  I  think  we  shall  not  be  suffered  to  dishonour 
'the  good  cause  or  the  General  by  lack  of  courage. 
But  victory  is  not  in  our  hands.  And  what  may 
be  in  God's,  I  am  no  prophet  to  tell. 

"Between  us  and  England  an  army  twice  our 
humber.  Between  England  and  the  old  tyranny, 
as  we  deem,  nothing  but  Oliver  and  his  eleven 
thousand.     A  thought  to  nerve  heart  and  hand. 

"  'We  are  sensible  of  our  disadvantages,'  as  the 
General  saith.  '  But  not  a  few  of  us  stand  in  this 
Vrust,  that  because  of  their  numbers — because  of 
their  confidence  —  because  of  our  weakness  —  be- 
cause of  our  strait,  we  are  in  the  Mount,  and  in  the 
Mount  the  Lord  will  be  seen  ;  and  that  He  will  find 
out  a  way  of  deliverance  and  salvation  for  us.' 

"  The  sea  and  the  waves  roaring,  but  as  yet,  God 
be  praised,  no   man's   heart  failing   him   for  fear 


ON  BOTH   SID  Ed    OF   THE    SFA. 


'73 


Farewell !  Whatever  comes  to-morrow  I  would 
have  thee  know  we  are  not  dismayed  to-day." 
And,  enclosed,  a  few  lines  from  my  husband  :— 
"  This  campaign  has  been  one  of  more  occupa- 
tion for  the  leech  than  the  soldier,"  he  wrote. 
"The  wild  weather,  and  food  not  of  the  best  cr 
most  plentiful,  with  lying  out  on  the  Avet  moors, 
always  restlessly  on  the  watch  for  battles  which 
never  came,  have  shattered  the  troops  more  than 
many  a  hard  fight.  Sickness  is  on  all  sides.  The 
Captain-General  saith  the  men  fall  sick  beyond 
imagination.  He  himself  has  no^  escaped.  The 
foe  I  fis;ht  with  has  left  me  little  intermission. 
The  prospect  of  a  battle,  such  as  hangs  over  us  in 
the  thousands  gathering  on  Doon  Hill  through  the 
day,  and  now  ready  to  sweep  down  the  slopes, 
¥eems  proving  already  to  some  a  better  physic  than 
any  of  mine.  A  wound  is  doubled  when  the  spirit 
is  wounded,  and  half  healed  when  the  spirit  is 
cheered. 

"  Never  fear  for  me,  dear  heart ;  I  know  I  am 
where  my  task  is  set.  And  I  keep  as  well  as  men 
for  the  most  part  do  who  have  plenty  to  do  and 
bope  in  doing  it." 

"Ah,"  sighed  Aunt  Dorothy,  "snared  in  their 
jwn  net  at  last !  Did  not  Mr.  Baxter  write  to  the 
Well-disposed  in  the  sectarian  army,  warning  them 
of  the  sin  of  going  to  war  against  the  godly  in 
Gotland  ;  'for  which,  0  blindness  !'  quoth  he, '  they 
thought  me  an  uncharitable  censurer.'  Remark- 
able  providence  !"  she  concluded  ;  "  to  have  actually 
15* 


I74  OUT  DOTH  SIDE}    OF   THE  SEA. 

run  of  their  own  free  will  into  a  place  which  petals 
as  if  it  had  been  ordained  from  the  beginnu  g  to  be 
just  such  a  trap." 

"  Had  we  not  better  wait  till  we  see  whether 
they  get  out,  Aunt  Dorothy  ?"  said  I. 

"  Get  out,  child  ?"  said  she,  fierily  ;  "  I  think 
netter  of  them,  with  all  their  transgressions,  than 
to  believe  they  are  bad  enough  to  be  suffered  to 
prosper  in  their  evil  ways  !  Mr.  Cromwell  himself 
was,  or  seemed  to  be,  in  the  Covenant  once." 

But  that  very  evening  flew  through  the  land  the 
news  of  Dunbar  victory  :  these  letters  having  been 
delayed  by  coming  round  through  London.  The 
Scottish  forces  were  totally  routed.  As  Mr.  Baxter 
said,  "  Their  foot  taken,  their  horse  pursued  to 
Edinburgh ;  when,  if  they  would  only  have  let 
Oliver's  weakened  and  ragged  army  go,  or  caute- 
lously  followed  them,  it  would  have  kept  their  peace 
and  broken  his  honour." 

For  neither  Mr.  Baxter  nor  Aunt  Dorothy  thought 
it  at  all  a  "  remarkable  providence  "  that  Oliver  and 
his  army  had  thus  escaped.  It  was  plain,  on  the 
contrary,  she  thought,  to  all  right-thinking  people, 
that  their  successes,  so  for  from  proving  them  right, 
only  proved  that  they  had  gone  too  for  wrong  to 
be  corrected. 

A  few  days  afterwards  arrived  a  letter,  sent  mo 
by  Rachel  Forster  from  Job. 

It  began : — 

"  See  Psalm  107.  (0  praise  (he  Lord,  all  ye  nations; 
praise  him  a.U  ye  people. 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  175 

"  For  his  merciful  kindness  is  great  towards  us ;   and 
the  truth  of  the  Lord  endurclh  for  ever.     Praise  ye  the 

Lord).*  We  sang  it  on  the  battle  field  yesterday. 
The  shortest  psalm  that  is.  Made  on  purpose, 
belike,  for  such  a  service  and  such  a  congregation. 
For  we  had  no  time  for  more.  We  sang  it,  Oliver 
and  the  foremost  of  us,  on  the  halt,  before  the  rest 
came  up  for  the  chase.  The  music  rolled  up  grand, 
like  the  sea,  from  the  hollow  of  the  brook  against 
the  hill  of  Doon.  We  had  cause  to  sin<r  it,  and  the 
Whole  land  hath  cause.  Never  better.  Do  thou 
sing  it,  dear  heart,  at  Netherby,  and  let  Mistress 
Olive  sing  it,  and  the  babes  listen,  and  Mistress 
Annis  (if  she  will  unlearn  her  perverse  ways) ;  'old 
men  and  children,  young  men  and  maidens.'  For 
their  '  covenant  with  death '  is  broken.  The  snare 
is  broken,  and  we  are  delivered.  And  not  we  and 
England  only,  but  all  the  godly  throughout  the 
three  kingdoms  ;  if  they  will  but  see.  Surely  they 
most  see  ;  kirk-ministers  and  all, '  spite  (as  the  Gene- 
ral saith)  of  all  their  sullenness  at  God's  providences, 
and  their  envy  at  Eldad  and  Medad  and  the  Lord's 
people  who  prophecy  ;  their  envy  (saith  he)  at  in- 
struments, because  things  did  not  Avork  forth  their 
platform,  and  the  great  God  did  not  come  down  to 
their  thoughts.' 

*  In  Mr.  Rous's  version  : — 

"  O  give  ye  praise  unto  the  l/~- d. 
All  nations  that  be  ; 
Likewise,  ye  people,  all  accord 

His  name  to  magnify. 
For  great  to  oeward  ever  are 

His  loving-kindnesses; 
Hi<  truth  endures  for  evermore, 
The  Lord  O  do  ye  bless." 


dy6  OK  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

"  They  hung  above  us  on  the  hill  of  Doon,  twenty 
three  thousand  strong,  all  through  the  night.  A 
wild  night  it  was;  the  waves  roaring,  the  cold  rain 
driving  across  the  tongue  of  land  where  they  thought 
us  trapped.  But  we  prayed,  and  watched,  and  kept 
our  powder  dry,  which  was  as  much  as  we  could  do. 
We  had  some  scant  shelter  under  tents  and  walls. 
They,  poor  soul?,  had  none;  and  before  dawn  they 
put  out  all  their  matches  but  two  to  a  company,  and 
lay  down  under  the  corn-shocks.  Oliver  did  not 
wait  for  them  to  burst  on  us;  nor  for  the  morning 
to  break.  We  did  not  wait  for  his  word  to  be  on 
the  alert.  A  company  of  us  were  in  prayer  at  three 
o'clock,  with  a  poor  cornet  (one  of  the  Eldads  and 
Meclads),when  Major  Hodgson  rode  past  and  stopped 
to  join,  and  found  strength  in  it,  as  the  day  proved. 

"  We  were  to  have  charged  before  they  woke. 
But  there  were  delays  in  getting  ad  the  men  for- 
ward. So  before  we  had  gathered  we  heard  the 
enemy's  trumpets  wake  up  one  by  one  in  the  dark, 
along  the  hill-side.  Then  the  moon  broke  from  a 
cloud,  and,  with  the  first  ray  of  clawn,  made  light 
enough  to  see  where  we  were  going,  when  at  last 
all  the  men  came  up,  and  the  trumpets  pealed  out 
all  along  our  line  with  the  English  battle-shout  and 
the  great  guns. 

"Their  cry  and  ours  met:  '  The  Covenant  /'  and 
'  The  Lord  of  Hosts  P  And  with  it  we  and  they 
met,  met  and  closed  in  death-grapple  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour ;  company  to  company,  man  to 
man.  Once  we  were  pressed  back  across  the  brook 
in    the   hollow,  their   horse   charging  desperately. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 


'77 


No  hearing  the  winds  and  waves  roar  ther .  Then 
R-e  cnarged  back,  horse  and  foot, — such  a  charge 
(many  say)  as  they  never  saw — hack  again  across 
the  hollow  of  the  brook.  That  charge  .vas  never 
returned.  We  heard  Oliver's  voice,  '  They  run,  f 
profess  they  run  P  And  then  the  sun  broke  across 
the  field,  and  with  it  again  Oliver's  voice,  '  Let  God 
arise,  and  lei  his  enemies  be  scattered.'' 

"And  scattered  they  were.  Three  thousand  dead 
in  the  hollow  of  the  brook.  (Three  thousand  whose 
hands  we  would  fain  have  held  as  brothers.  God 
knows  how  Oliver  entreated  them  sore,  and  how 
they  gave  us  hatred  for  our  love.)  Ten  thousand 
prisoners.  The  rest  flying  right  and  left  through 
the  land.     An  army  gone  in  an  hour. 

"  An  army  of  brave  Scottish  men,  godly  men 
many  of  them  doubtless  ;  ministers  there  in  store  to 
bless  them  (no  Eldads  and  ^Vledads,  but  covenanted 
kirk-ministers),  all  swept  away  like  the  chaff"  of  the 
summer  threshing-floor. 

"  Will  they  not  yet  see  ?  N  ot  our  courage  did  it ; 
they  were  brave  as  we.  Not  our  numbers  ;  theirs 
doubled  ours.  Not  our  field;  they  chose  it.  The 
passes  of  the  hills  were  theirs.  What  then  ?  Can 
any  fail  to  see  ?  The  lie  that  is  among  them  makes 
them  weak,  the  false  oaths  to  a  false  Covenant  sworn 
at  their  command,  against  his  will  and  conscience, 
by  the  poor,  false,  young  Stuart  king.  The  differ 
ence  is  the  difference  in  our  battle-cries.  lThe  Cme 
nant^  good  once  (far  be  it  from  us  to  speak  scorn 
of  it),  good  twice,  but  not  good  always;  strong 
against  one  evil  yesterday,  not  strong  against  all 


i78  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

evil  for  ever.  And  ''The  Lord  of  Hosts?  Almighty 
Rgaiust  all  evil  for  ever.  Not  His  own  Covenant 
even,  as  far  as  it  is  but  written  in  stone ;  much  less 
(heirs,  though  signed  with  their  blood  ;  not  His  own 
Covenant,  though  'confirmed  by  an  oath,*  so  much 
»?  Himself  living  to  confirm  the  oath. 

"  As  the  Lord-General  saith, '  What  He  hath  done, 
what  He  is  to  us  in  Christ,  is  the  root  of  our  comfort; 
in  this  is  stability ;  in  us  is  weakness.  Faith  as  an 
act  yields  not  perfect  peace;  hut  only  as  it  carries 
into  Him  who  is  our  perfect  peace.  Rest  we  here,  and 
here  only.'* 

"Truly  soldiers  have  cause  to  sing  the  109th 
Psalm  who  have  such  a  General  to  lead  and  speak 
to  them  ;  although,  in  the  eyes  of  the  kirk,  he  be  but 
an  Eldad.  I  trust  I  meddle  not  with  things  too 
high  for  me  after  the  lesson  I  have  had.  Often, 
dear  heart,  I  long  for  thee,  and  thy  comfortable 
speech  and  smile. 

"  Master  Roger  and  I  talk  over  many  things  by 
\ he  camp-fires  when  most  are  asleep;  we  knowing 
old  Netherby,  and  thee,  and  so  many  other  things 
ti-re  rest  know  not.  He  is  heavier  and  graver  than 
J  would  see  him,  save  where  there  is  work  to  be 
done. 

*  "  What  God  hath  done,  what  He  is  to  us  in  Christ,  is  the 
root  of  our  comfort :  and  this  is  stability  ;  in  us  is  weakness 
Act3  of  obedience  are  not  perfect,  and,  therefore,  yield  not 
perfect  peace.  Faith  as  an  act  yields  it  not ;  but  only  as  it 
carries  us  into  Him,  who  is  our  perfect  peace,  and  in  whom 
we  are  accounted  of  and  received  by  the  Father  even  as  Christ 
Himself.  This  is  our  high  calling.  Rest  we  here,  and  here 
wily." 


VX  BOTE    SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 


179 


"  I  doubt  there  is  somewhat  gnawing,  without 
noise,  as  worms  and  blights  do,  at  his  heart. 

"  There  was  the  pretty  lady  at  the  hall,  now  among 
the  Ifivites  and  Perizzites  (so  to  speak)  in  France. 
1  know  nothing,  but  that  he  never  speaks  of  her  and 
hers.  And  they  were  aye  together,  he  and  she  and 
Mistress  Olive,  in  the  old  days. 

"  Poor  brave  young  heart,  mine  is  sore  for  him 
many  a  time.  It  is  not  all  who  get  snch  plentiful 
wages  beforehand  as  I,  Rachel,  in  thee." 

Which  last  sentence  Rachel  had  annotated  with, — 

"  The  goodman  means  no  harm,  Mistress  Olive. 
But  on  that  matter  he  could  never  be  brought  to 
see  plain,  say  what  I  would." 

The  next  Sunday  a  Thanksgiving  was  appointed 
by  the  Parliament  ("  the  Rump ")  for  the  victory 
of  Dunbai-.  This  Mr.  Baxter  oj)enly  disregarded  ; 
using  his  influence,  moreover,  to  persuade  others  to 
do  the  same.  He  did  not  hesitate  in  his  sermon  to 
warn  his  hearers  of  the  sin  of  fighting  against  a 
loyal  Scottish  Covenanted  army ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  he  blamed  the  Scots  themselves  for  "  imposing 
laws  upon  their  king,  for  forcing  him  to  dishonour 
the  memory  of  his  father,  and  for  tempting  him  to 
take  God's  name  in  vain  by  speaking  and  publish- 
ing that  which,  they  might  easily  know,  was  con- 
trary to  his  heart." 

So,  in  the  afternoon  of  that  Sabbath  which  Mr. 
Baxter  refused  to  make  a  day  of  thanksgiving  to 
Kidderminster,  I  held  a  pri  ate  thauksgn  ing  service 
in  my  own  chamber. 


i go  ON  BOTH  SIDF.S   OF  THE  SEA. 

At  first,  in  ray  solitude,  ray  spirit  was  too  busy 
with  protesting  against  Mr.  Baxter  to  be  at  leisure 
for  praise. 

At  tbe  doors  of  some  of  the  bouses  opposite,  quiet 
groups  of  weavers  were  gathered,  in  their  Sunday 
best.  In  all  the  town,  Mr.  Baxter  rejoiced  to  think, 
there  was  not  one  Separatist.  The  Quakers  (be 
fondly  believed)  he  had  silenced,  at  a  discussion 
held  in  his  church.  One  journeyman  shoemaker, 
indeed,  had  turned  Anabaptist,  "  but  he  had  left  the 
town  upon  it." 

No  "Eldads  and  Medads"  had  troubled  Kidder- 
minster with  irregular  prophesying  ;  "  for,"  said  Mr. 
Baxter,  "  so  modest  were  the  ablest  of  the  people, 
that  they  were  never  inclined  to  a  preaching  way, 
but  thought  they  had  teaching  enough  by  their 
pastors." 

''Among    all    these    busy   brains    and    stirring 

hearts,"  I  thought,  as  I  sat  at  my  window,  "  noi 

one  that  differs  from  Mr.  Baxter;  while  Mr.  Baxter 

iiffers  in  so  many  directions  from  so  many  people 

that  fifty  books  have  been  written  against  him." 

The  thought  of  a  whole  town  walking  on  such  a 
narrow  path,  step  by  step  after  Mr.  Baxter,  with 
those  fifty  precipices  and  "  bye-paths"  on  all  si'les, 
had  something  appalling  in  it ; — appalling  in  its 
monotony,  and  in  its  precariousness.  What  kind 
of  a  place  would  England  be  to  live  in  if  it  were  all 
brought  to  this  Kidderminster  standard  ?  Not  very 
pleasant,  certainly  for  any  journeyman  shoemaker 
who  was  unfortunate  enough  to  turn  Anabaptist ! 
Perhaps  in  the  end  a  little  wearisome  even  for  Air. 


O.V  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  % 

Baxter  himself,  when  no  one  was  left  for  ftim  to 
silence. 

I  need  not  have  perplexed  myself  with  such  spec- 
ulations. Long  before  the  experiment  reached  that 
stage,  Mr.  Baxter's  own  eloquent  voice  itself  was 
Bilenced,  and  his  faithful  words  made  doubly  pre 
eious  to  his  flock  by  the  prohibition,  on  peril  of  im- 
prisonment or  flue,  of  ever  listening  to  them  again. 

Nor  was  a  slumbrous  unanimity  by  any  means 
the  danger  England  had  then  to  dread. 

As  I  opened  my  Bible  and  read  the  Dunbar  Psalm, 
and  sought  to  make  melody  with  it  in  heart,  my 
quiet  chamber  seemed  to  become  a  side  chapel  of  a 
Vast  cathedral.  I  felt  no  more  alone.  A  thousand 
services  of  song  seemed  going  on  around  me.  From 
Br.  Jeremy  Taylor  silenced  in  Wales,  and  good 
Bishop  Hall  near  Norwich,  and  numerous  little 
companies  in  old  halls  and  manors,  meeting  secretly 
to  use  the  Liturgy  banished  from  churches  and  ca- 
thedrals. From  these  same  ancient  churches  and 
cathodrals,  where  hundreds  of  "painful  ministers," 
like  Mr.  Baxter,  Joseph  Alleine,  or  John  Howe, 
were  leading  the  devotions  of  the  people  in  psalms 
more  ancient  than  any  Liturgy,  and  prayers  new  as 
every  morning's  mercies.  From  Puritan  armies  in 
Scotland,  covenanted  and  uncovenanted.  From 
meetings  of  Quakers,  many  of  them  in  prisons.  Be- 
yond these  again,  from  Lutherans  and  Calvinists  in 
Protestant  Europe ;  and  doubtless  also  from  count* 
less  devout  hearts  in  Catholic  cathedrals  and  con- 
vents. And  farther  off  still,  from  the  Puritan  vil- 
lages in  the  wilderness  on  the  other  side  of  the  pea, 
16 


1 82  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

At  first  this  concourse  of  so  inds  scarce  seemed  a 
concert.  Babel  has  smitten  men  with  deeper  divi- 
sions than  those  of  speech.  Too  many  of  the  pray- 
ers sounded  terribly  like  anathemas.  Too  many  oi 
the  psalms  like  war-cries. 

Untd,  as  I  still  listened,  the  roof  even  of  this  vast 
cathedral  of  Christendom  seemed  to  melt  away  into 
the  firmament  of  heaven.  Then  I  found  that  there 
was  a  height  whence  all  discords,  which  were  not 
music,  fell  back  to  earth,  and  whence  all  the  discords 
without  which  music  cannot  be,  flowed  up  in  one 
grand  River  of  Praise,  in  at  the  Gates  of  Pearl. 

The  burden  of  the  song  seemed  simply  that  old 
prayer,  "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven." 

Bat  from  the  crystal  fiery  sea  into  which  that 
river  flowed,  rolled  back,  as  in  an  echo  of  countless 
ocean  waves,  the  antiphou, — 

"  Great  and  marvellous  are  Thy  works,  Lord  Go* 
Almighty.  Just  and  true  are  Thy  ways,  Thou  Kin? 
of  Saints!" 

Then  the  thought  came  to  me,  "  Mr.  Baxter,  how- 
ever, with  all  his  moderatmgs  and  balancings  can- 
not antedate  these  harmonies.  Aunt  Dorothy  says 
he  believes  he  has  found  the  exact  middle  point  be- 
tween every  extreme — Calvinism  and  Arminianism, 
Episcopacy,  Presbytery,  Independency.  But,  un- 
fortunately, to  otlier  people  it  is  but  a  point.  Aunt 
Dorothy  cannot,  quite  balance  herself  on  it.  It  is 
certain  the  whole  world  cannot.  It  is  doubtful  if 
any  one  can,  except  Mr.  Baxter." 

The  harmony  is  made,n  )t  by  each  trying  to  learn 


OX  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE   SEA.  ,8) 

ihe  Avhole,  \  ut  by  each  keeping  faithfully  to  the 
part  given  him  to  learn  and  sing,  though  the  part 
be  only  a  broken  note  here  and  there. 

And  I  thanked  God  that  all  the  efforts  of  the 
worst  men,  or  the  best,  to  anticipate  that  majestic 
anthem  of  conflicting  and  embracing  sound  by  a 
thin  unison  of  voices,  had  never  succeeded,  and 
never  could  succeed,  as  long  as  men  are  men,  and 
the  second  Man  is  not  St.  Paul,  or  Apollos,  or  St. 
John — but  the  Son  of  Alan ;  the  Lord  from  heaven. 


LETTI  Ce's     DIAEY, 


"  Paris,  1650,  September. — It  is  a  new  world  in 
which  T  And  myself,  here,  in  the  hotel  of  Madame 
la  Mothe.  Save  Barbe  and  myself,  not  one  Prot- 
estant is  of  the  circle. 

"  The  loneliness  is  sometimes  oppressive,  cour- 
teous as  all  are  It  is  not  so  much  the  condemna- 
tion of  Protestant  England,  as  an  unfoi-tunate  island 
shattered  from  the  rest  of  Christendom  by  the  earth- 
quake of  the  Reformation,  which  makes  me  feel  how 
far  off  we  are  from  each  other,  as  their  incapacity 
to  comprehend  the  divisions  which  are  convulsing 
our  country.  '  From  shattering  to  pulverizing,  the 
process  is  but  natural,'  a  good  priest  said  the  other 
day.  They  seem  to  look  on  us  as  the  dust  of 
a  ruined  Church  ;  and  between  nnp  ntom  of  dust 
and  another — between  atoms  Episcopal,  atoms  Pres- 
byterian, and  atoms  Independent — they  have  no 
sunbeam  strong  enough  to  distinguish. 

u  Paris,  October   1st. — This  morning   Madame  la 


t^4 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


Mothe,  always  anxious  fc  my  welfare,  and  now 
and  then  awakening  to  spasms  of  conviction  that 
my  welfare  means  my  '  conversion,'  took  me  to  hear 
an  excellent  priest,  called  Singlin,  preach. 

"  '  I  do  not  go  often  myself,  my  child,'  she  said, 
'  because  the  power  of  M.  Singlin's  sermons  is  re- 
doubtable. They  sweep  people  away  from  transi- 
tory ties,  like  a  torrent.  Now,  while  M.  la  Mothe 
lives,  this  is  a  danger  to  which  I  scarcely  venture 
to  expose  myself.  He  is,  as  you  see,  more  aged 
than  I  am.  And  what  could  he  do  without  me? 
When  I  married  him,  I  was  a  child  ;  he  a  man  of 
high  reputation,  who  had  made  his  mark  in  the 
world.  It  was  considered  a  brilliant  destiny  for 
me.  It  has  been  a  tranquil  and  a  happy  destiny. 
He  was  ever  to  me  the  most  considerate  of  friends, 
guiding  me  through  the  temptations  of  the  world 
like  a  director,  generously  providing  me  with  the 
pleasures  suited  to  my  age,  and  consoling  me  like 
an  angel  when  our  only  child  died.  I  could  never 
abandon  him  now.' 

"  Many  things  were  strange  to  me  in  these  words. 
This  married  life  seemed  so  strangely  dual,  instead 
of  one.  She  spoke  of  him  rather  as  leading  on  than 
going  with  ;  rather  as  providing  her  joys  than  join- 
ing in  them  ;  rather  as  consoling  her  griefs  than 
sharing  them.  And  as  strange  seemed  to  me  tbia 
mingled  love  and  dread  of  M.  Singlin's  sermons. 

"  We  dressed,  and  set  off  for  the  church. 

"  '  Surely,  Madame,'  I  said,  as  we  walked  through 
the  streets,  '  no  good  man  would  advise  you  to  ahan 
ion  home  and  il    la  Mothe  ?' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  !&> 

"  '  No,  certainly,'  she  said  ;  '  not  a.  (vise.  But  he 
mio-ht  make  me  feel  the  world  so  hollow  and  mo 
mentary,  all  its  relationships  so  transitory,  that  an 
irresistible  attraction  would  draw  my  heart  from 
the  world,  like  that  of  the  young  lady  you  see  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street,  Mademoiselle  Jacque- 
line Pascal.  And  what  comfort,  then,  would  my 
husband  have  in  my  going  through  life,  by  his  side 
indeed,  but  as  a  machine  wound  up  to  its  work, 
with  the  spirit  elsewhere  !' 

"And  she  pointed  out  to  me  a  maiden  habited 
much  like  a  nun,  moving  silently  along  with  down- 
cast eyes. 

" '  See,  my  child,'  she  whispered,  '  one  of  the 
trophies  of  M.  Singlin's  eloquence,  or,  at  least,  of 
the  doctrines  he  enforces.  A  young  person  of  good 
family,  daughter  of  M.  Etienne  Pascal,  counsellor 
of  the  king.  At  thirteen  she  Avas  a  poetess.  She 
charmed  the  Queen,  Anne  of  Austria,  and  the  Court, 
by  her  verses  on  the  birth  of  the  Dauphin,  his  pre- 
sent Majesty.  She  cajDtivated  all  by  the  point  of 
her  repartees.  At  fourteen  she  won  from  Cardinal 
Richelieu  her  father's  pardon  for  some  political 
offence,  by  her  marvellous  acting  in  a  drama.  Her 
brother,  Blaise,  works  miracles  of  science — literally 
miracles.  He  has  weighed  the  air,  and  made  a 
machine  which  calculates.  She  is  beautiful,  accom- 
plished, not  yet  twenty-six  ;  the  most  brilliant  pros- 
pects open  to  her ;  the  only  unmarried  daughter  of 
an  indulgent  father  who  loves  her  tenderly.  She 
hears  M.  Singlin.  His  words  give  the  seal  to  her 
vocation     She  renounces  everything — the  Court;,  the 


186  0-V  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

world,  the  family  as  far  as  she  can,  her  genius,  hei 
wit,  herself.' 

"  '  You  mean  she  renounces  her  genius  by  con- 
secrating it.' 

"  '  I  mean  she  renounces.  Hereafter  God  and  the 
Church  may  consecrate.  But  who  can  say  ?  What 
Bre  our  talents  to  Him  ?  His  Providence  can  de- 
stroy a  navy  by  a  whirlwind  or  by  a  little  worm. 
Henceforth  she  reads  only  books  of  devotion  and 
theology.  She  writes  no  more  poetry.  She  denies 
herself  the  manifestation  of  her  dearest  affections. 
Until  her  father  freely  consents  to  her  profession, 
she  yields,  indeed,  so  far  as  to  remain  in  his  house. 
But  she  makes  her  home  a  convent,  her  chamber  a 
cell.  She  spends  the  day  there  in  solitude — last 
winter  without  a  fire,  bleak  as  it  was — recitin» 
oflices,  reading  books  of  piety.  She  only  joins  the 
family  at  meals.  And  of  the  meals,  as  far  as  possi- 
ble, she  makes  fasts,  refusing  to  warm  herself  at 
the  fire.  Charity  alone,  and  devotion,  bring  her  out 
of  her  retirement.  When  her  sister's  child  was 
dying  of  the  small-pox  she  nursed  it  night  and  day 
with  devoted  tenderness.  She  would,  doubtless, 
have  done  the  same  for  the  child  of  a  beggar ;  so 
entire  is  her  consecration.  Soon,  no  doubt,  such 
piety  will  vanquish  all  objections  ;  her  father  will 
yield  (if  he  lives),  and  she  will  enter  Port  Royal. 
And  this  is  one  result  of  M.  Singlin's  eloquence, 
and  of  the  power  of  his  doctrine.  You  will  con- 
fess it  is  a  power,  beneficent  indeed,  but  formidable. 

"  '  Formidable  indeed,  Madame,'  I  said,  shudder* 
ing,  for  I  thought  of  m;j  own  father.  '  Fire,  I  think, 
to  the  brain,  and  frost  to  the  heart.' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  j87 

"  '  Alas,  my  child  !'  she  said  ;  '  how  should  you 
understand  what  is  meant  by  genuine  Vocation,  or 
a  thorough  Conversion  ?' 

"  To  me,  indeed,  this  seemed  not  conversion  ;  but 
annihilation. 

"  We  were  silent  some  way  on  our  return  from 
the  church. 

"  '  You  were  arrested,'  said  Madame  la  Mothe. 

"  '  It  reminded  me  of  a  Puritan  sermon  I  once 
heard  in  England,'  I  said  ;  '  speaking  of  the  world 
as  a  "  carcass  that  had  neither  life  nor  loveliness." 
Only  M.  Singlin  seemed  to  include  more  in  what  he 
meant  by  the  world  than  the  Puritan  did.' 

"  '  That  is  what  I  should  expect,'  she  replied. 
'  The  higher  the  point  of  view,  the  more  utter  must 
seem  the  vanity  of  all  below.  Does  he  not  make 
life  seem  a  speck  of  dust,  its  history  a  moment  ? 
yet  each  speck  of  dust  on  the  earth  a  world,  and 
each  moment  a  lifetime,  as  to  its  issues,  radiating  as 
these  do  through  eternity  !' 

"  When  we  came  back,  Madame  la  Mothe  gave 
an  ardent  account  of  the  sermon  to  an  Abbe,  a 
cousin  of  hers,  who  happened  to  be  visiting  at  the 
"louse. 

"  To  my  surprise,  he  solemnly  denounced  the  re- 
cluses of  Port  Royal,  with  M.  Singlin  and  their 
directors.     He  called  it  a  conspiracy. 

"  He  said :  '  A  renegade  Capuchin  has  (as  they 
confess)  been  the  means  of  the  conversion  cf  their 
adored  Abbess,  Angelique  Arnauld.  The  Arnauld 
fiunily,  the  soul  cf  the  whole   thing,  were  Prote» 


,88  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 

tants  in  the  previous  generation  ;  and  (as  the  Span- 
iards say)  it  takes  n  re  than  one  generation  to  wash 
the  taint  of  heresy  from  the  blood.' 

"  At  this  point  Madame  la  Mothe  considerately 
introduced  me. 

"  '  With  the  Protestants  we  are  on  open  ground, 
he  said,  bowing  graciously  to  me.  '  Mademoiselle 
will  understand  I  spoke  ecclesiastically.  But  these 
Jansenists  are  conspirators.  They  are  digging  mines 
underneath  the  altar  itself.  However,  the  Pope 
lives,  and  the  Order  of  Jesus  is  awake.  We  shall 
see  which  will  perish — the  sanctuary,  or  the  mine 
which  was  to  explode  it.' 

"  '  Is  it  true,'  I  asked  Madame  la  Mothe  after- 
wards, '  that  the  Abbess  of  Port  Royal  owed  her 
first  impulse  heavenward  to  a  Protestant  ?' 

"  '  They  have  told  me,  indeed,  it  was  a  renegade 
monk  who  so  moved  the  young  Abbess'  heart,'  she 
replied.  '  The  miserable  being,  it  is  said,  spoke 
so  forcibly  on  the  blessedness  of  a  holy  life,  and  on 
the  infinite  love  and  humiliation  of  our  Lord  in  Hia 
incarnation.' 

"  '  Perhaps,  then,  he  knew  the  blessedness  of  a 
holy  life,'  I  said. 

"  '  He  was  a  wretched  fugitive,  escaping  from  his 
convent,  my  child,'  she  replied,  a  little  impatiently. 
4  But  what  of  that  ?  Was  not  Balaam  one  of  the 
prophets  ?' 

"  Two  things,  however,  give  me  a  kind  of  mourn- 
ful consolation. 

"  One  is,  that,  deny  h  as  they  will,  there  is  an  un- 
dying link  between  the  holy  people  of  Port  Royal 


O.V   BOTH   SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 


189 


and  those  of  the  Protestant  Church.  I  like  to  think 
that.  Not  only  has  their  piety  a  common  source  ill 
tbe  same  Sun,  but  it  was  enkindled  by  the  touch  of 
a  paor  heretic  hand  they  would  refuse  to  grasp  in 
brotherhood.  They  will  have  to  grasp  that  poor 
hand  by-and-by,  I  like  to  think ;  and  then,  not  re- 
luctantly ! 

"And  the  other  consolation  is,  that  divisions  are 
not  confined  to  Protestants  ;  a  consolation  both  as 
regards  the  Roman  Catholics  and  ourselves.  For 
it  seems  to  me,  wherever  there  is  thought  there 
must  be  difference ;  wherever  there  is  life  there  must 
be  variety.  Life  and  sin  ;  these  seem  to  me  the  chiei 
sources  of  religious  dilference.  God  only  knows 
from  which  of  these  two  fountains  each  drop  of  the 
turbulent  stream  flows.  Life,  which  must  manifest 
itself  in  forms  varied  as  the  living,  varying  as  their 
growing;  sin,  which  adds  to  these  varieties  of 
healthy  growth  the  sad  varieties  of  disease,  infir- 
muy,  excrescence,  or  defect. 

"  Paris,  October  2nd. — 'A  battle  at  Dunbar,  on  the 
coasft  of  Scotland. 

"Another  defeat.  'A  complete  rout,'  my  father 
says  in  his  letter,  which  is  very  desponding.  He  is 
very  indignant  with  the  Scots,  who  will  not  let  the 
king's  *  loyal  servants  and  counsellors'  come  near 
him,  or  even  fight  for  him,  but  drag  him  about  like 
&  culprit  and  preach  sermons  to  him,  '  once,'  he 
says,  '  six  in  succession.'  (And,  here,  His  Majesty 
had  not  the  reputation  of  being  too  fond  of  sermons.) 
He  is  also  grieved  with  the  king  himself;  at  his 
signing  the  Covenant,  at  his  publicly  condemning 


iyo  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

his  royal  martyred  father's  acts,  and  his  mother's 
religion ;  and,  above  all,  at  his  suffering  himself  to 
be  conducted  in  state  into  Edinburgh,  under  the 
gate  where  were  exposed  tte  dishonoured  remains 
of  Montrose,  who  so  gallantly  died  for  him  not  six 
months  before.  '  Nevei-theless,'  he  concludes,  '  we 
shall  all  die  for  him  when  our  time  comes,  no  doubt, 
as  willingly  as  Montrose  did.  And  after  all,  the 
true  mischief-makers  are  the  priests.  From  the 
Pope  to  the  kirk  preachers,  not  a  disturbance  in  the' 
world  but  you  find  them  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Let 
all  the  theologies  alone,  sweetheart.  One  is  as  bad 
as  another.  Say  thy  Creed  ;  keep  the  Command- 
ments ;  pray  the  Lord's  Prayer.  And  remember 
thy  old  father.' 

"January,  Chateau  St.  Remi. — We  have  come  to 
M.  la  Mothe's  country  chateau  for  the  Christmas. 

"  The  Abbey  Church  of  Port  Royal  des  Champs 
is  our  parish-church.  Madame  la  Mothe  often  takes 
me  there. 

"  The  first  morning  after  our  arrival  she  took  me 
to  the  edge  of  the  Valley  of  Port  Royal. 

''  R  is  rather  a  cup-like  hollow  in  the  plain  than  a 
valley  among  hills.  Rs  sides  are  clothed  with  a 
f ombre  mantle  of  ancient  forests,— at  the  further 
♦jnd  sleeping  into  the  plain  into  which  the  valley 
opens.  A  broad  rich  plain  with  rivers,  woods,  corn- 
fields, now  ploughed  into  long  brown  ridges  for 
sowing ;  towns,  villages  with  spires  and  towers,  all 
stretching  far  away  into  a  blue  dimness. 

"The  recluses  who  occupied  Les  Granges,  the  ab- 
bey farm  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  where  we  stood, 


OS   BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE    SEA  ,qy 

must  find  their  prayers  helped,  I  think,  by  this 
glimpse  into  the  wide  world  of  life  beyond.  Tho 
nuns  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley  must  lose  it. 

"  The  valley  was  entirely  filled  by  the  convent. 

"  '  It  is  like  a  vase  carved  by  the  Creator  Himself 
for  the  precious  ointment  whose  odour  fills  all  His 
house,'  Madame  la  Mothe  said. 

"  To  my  unaccustomed  eyes  it  was  more  like  a 
prosperous  village  than  a  monastery. 

"  In  the  midst,  the  great  tower  of  the  church ; 
close  to  it,  the  convent  itself,  with  its  lofty  roofs, 
arched  windows  and  gateways,  turrets  and  pin- 
nacles ;  around,  the  infirmary,  surgery,  weaving- 
houses,  Avash-houses,  bake-houses,  wood,  corn  and 
hay  stacks,  the  mill  and  the  mill-pond,  and  fish- 
ponds ;  the  new  and  stately  hotel  which  is  the  re- 
treat of  the  Duchess  de  Longueville,  with  the  resi- 
dences of  other  noble  ladies ;  and  beyond,  the 
kitchen-gardens  and  meadows  divided  by  a  winding 
brook  from  the  '  Solitude,'  where,  amidst  groups  of 
ancient  trees,  and  under  the  steep  slopes  of  tye 
wooded  hill,  the  nuns  repair  for  confession  and  med- 
itation. Even  then,  on  that  winter-day,  I  thought 
I  perceived  the  gleam  of  their  white  dresses  among 
the  trees 

"  As  we  look,  Madame  ia  Motbe  told  me  some  of 
the  scenes  which  had  been  witnessed  there  within 
the  last  fifty  years. 

"  Xot  fifty  years  since,  t^ae  abbey  had  been  a 
place  of  restless  gaiety  and  revelry.  Light  songs 
nnd  laughter  might  have  been  heard  echoing  among 
the  woods,  when  the  child  Angelique  Arnauld  was 
appointed  Abbess. 


iyZ 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 


'"  She  then  described  the  great  king  Henri  Quatre 
with  his  courtiers  invading  the  valley  in  the  easrer- 
ness  of  the  chase,  and  the  child  Abbess  with  her 
crozier  in  her  hand  marching  in  state  out  of  that 
grand  arched  gateway  at  the  head  of  her  nuns,  and 
warning  His  Majesty  from  the  sacred  precincts  ;  the 
king  gallantly  kissing  the  queenly  child's  hand,  and 
obeying  her  behests. 

"  Then  the  renegade  Capuchin,  finding  one  night's 
shelter  in  the  abbey  on  his  flight  to  a  Protestant 
country,  preaching  in  that  church  of  the  '  blessed- 
ness of  a  holy  life  and  the  love  of  Christ,'  so  as  to 
awaken  the  young  Abbess  in  her  seventeenth  year 
to  the  vision  of  a  new  world  and  a  new  life,  which, 
in  a  subsequent  sickness,  deepened  into  thorough 
conversion  to  God. 

"  The  '  Journee  du  Guichet,'  when  the  Abbess 
Angelique  began  her  attempts  to  reform  and  seclude 
the  nuns  by  refusing  to  admit  her  own  father  within 
the  grating  ;  by  the  long  fainting-fit  with  which  her 
resistance  ended,  showing  him  what  the  effort  cost 
her,  and  convincing  him  of  her  sincerity. 

"The  reform  of  Port  Royal.  Its  growing  repu- 
tation for  sanctity.  The  mission  of  the  young  Ab- 
bess to  reform  other  convents:  the  thronging  of 
new  nuns  under  her  rule,  until  the  valley  (then  un 
drained)  became  too  small,  health  failed,  and  all  the 
community  had  to  remove  for  fifteen  years  to  Paris, 

"The  arrival  of  the  Abbess  Angelique's  bi other, 
M.  Arnauld  d'Andilly,  and  the  other  recluses,  to 
take  up  their  abode  at  the  deserted  abbey,  then  half 
in  ruins  the  meadows  a  marsh,  the  gardeus  a  wilier 


ON   BOTH   SILLS    OF    THE  SEA  ,93 

dcss.  The  draining  of  the  marsh  and  rebuilding  of 
the  abbey  by  the  hands  of  these  gentlemen,  work- 
ing to  the  sound  of  psalms. 

''The  return  of  the  Abbess  Angelique,  with  her 
long  train  of  white-robed  daughters,  welcomed  with 
enthusiasm  by  the  peasants.  The  one  meeting  of 
the  recluses  and  the  nuns,  eighteen  of  them  of  the 
Arnauld  family ;  as  the  brothers  led  the  sisters  into 
the  church  they  had  worked  so  hard  to  restore,  and 
then  retired  to  the  abbey  farm,  to  see  each  other 
no  more  except  at  the  church  services  through  a 
grating. 

"As  I  looked  down,  nothing  struck  me  so  much 
as  the  stillness.  To  the  eye,  the  valley  was  a  place 
of  busy  human  life.  To  the  ear,  it  was  a  solitude. 
No  discordant  noises  came  from  it,  no  hum  of  cheer- 
ful converse,  nor  voices  of  children  at  play.  The 
nuns  have  large  schools,  which  they  teach  most  dil- 
igently and  intelligently  ;  the  best  ever  known,  it  is 
said.  But  the  children  are  accustomed  to  play,  eac't 
by  herself,  quietly.  The  nuns  think  they  like  it  as 
much, — after  a  little  while.  They  are  also  never  al- 
lowed to  kiss  or  caress  each  other.  Caresses  might 
lead  to  quarrels,  and  are,  besides  (the  nuns  think), 
a  weakening  indulgence  of  emotion. 

"  I  hope  they  often  read  the  little  ones  the  gospel 
which  tells  how  the  Master  '  took  the  little  children 
m  His  arms.'     They  must  need  it. 

"The  stillness  had  a  sacred  solemnity;  but  there 
was  something  of  a  vault-like  chill  in  it,  whicfh  crept 
over  me  like  a  shadow,  as  we  descended  the  steep 
path,  stiewn  with  moist  dead  leaves  among  th* 
roots  of  the  leafless  trees.  17 


I94  OiV  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE    SEA. 

"  I  should  like  better  to  have  se(  n  Port  Roya. 
when,  as  in  the  wars  of  the  Fronde  a  year  or  two 
since,  it  became  a  refuge  fcr  the  plundered  peasants 
of  the  neighbourhood,  the  infirmary  filled  with  their 
sick  and  aged,  the  church  with  their  corn,  the  sacred 
napkins  for  the  altar  torn  up  to  bind  their  wounds. 

''Through  the  grand  arched  gateway  we  went 
into  the  inner  court,  and  thence  into  the  church, 
where  the  nuns  were  chanting  the  service. 

"  Their  music  seems  ail  kept  for  the  church.  Sin 
and  eternity  !  These  two  thought?  seem  to  hush 
all  the  music  at  Port  Royal,  except  such  as  goes  up 
to  God.  It  was  a  solemn  thing  to  hear  the  hundred 
voices  joining  in  the  severe  and  simple  chants  to 
which  they  tune  their  lives  sc  well. 

"  Madame  la  Mothe  was  pleased  to  see  me  moved 
as  I  was  by  it. 

" '  In  England,  you  have  scarcely  a  choir  like 
that,'  she  said. 

"  '  Not  quite,'  I  replied  ;  yet  not  to  mislead  her 
with  false  hopes  as  to  me  I  could  not  help  adding, — 
'  With  us  the  singers  are  not  gathered  into  a  choir, 
but  scattered  through  the  Church;  in  scattered 
Christian  homes  throughout  the  nation.  And  the 
pauses  of  the  psalms  are  filled  up  by  family  joya 
and  sorrows,  and  by  the  voices  and  laughter  of  little 
children ;  which,  it  seems  to  me,  m:*ke  the  psalmg 
all  the  sweeter  and  truer.' 

"But  more  solemn  than  this  general  assembly  it 
was  to  ?ne  to  see,  as  I  have  this  evening,  while  ] 
was  in  J  he  church  alone,  that  motionless,  white 


Off  BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


\M 


robed,  kneeling  figure  keeping  watch  m  the  dusk 
befoie  the 'Sacred  Host'  on  the  altar.  One  silver 
lamp  radiated  a  dim  and  silvery  light  into  the  re- 
cesses of  the  empty  silent  church ;  the  lamp  never 
extinguished,  the  prayer  never  ceasing. 

"  That  kneeling  worshipper  seemed  to  me  herself 
a  living  symbol  and  portion  of  the  Perpetual  living 
Sacrifice,  in  which  the  One  sacrifice  unto  death  is 
for  ever  renewed ;  as  Christian  heart  after  heart  is 
enkindled  to  love,  and  sacrifice,  and  seiwe ;  as  the 
Church,  redeemed  by  Him  who  offered  Himself  up 
without  spot  to  God,  offers  herself  up  in  Him  to  do 
and  suffer  the  Father's  will,  to  drink  of  His  cup  and 
be  baptized  with  His  baptism ;  His  living  body, 
the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all.' 

"  As  we  came  up  the  hil)  my  heart  was  full  ot 
that  thought.  We  turned  and  looked  back  over 
the  valley.  The  massive  towers  threw  long  shadows 
over  the  meadows,  silvered  with  dew  and  moon- 
light. The  broad  lake  shone,  like  the  tranquil  lives 
of  the  sisterhood,  mirroring  the  heavens. 

"  On  the  other  side,  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  the 
lights  of  Les  Granges  showed  where  the  recluses 
were  keeping  their  watch.  A  deep-toned  bell  froni 
the  abbey  church  struck  the  hour. 

"  Then,  in  the  deepened  hush  of  silence  which 
followed,  the  soft  chant  of  the  nuns  came  stealing 
np  the  slopes.  As  we  listened,  it  seemed  to  be  an- 
swered from  above  by  the  deep  music  of  men's 
voices  from  Les  Granges. 

u  We  listened  till  the  last  notes  died  away.  I 
never  heard  church  music  which  so  moved  me  as 


q6  ON  LOT  11   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

those  unconscious  antiphons,  where  the  two  sides  ol 
the  choir  could  not  hear  each  other,  whilst  we  heard 
both.  It  made  me  think  of  so  many  things  :  of  the 
many  choirs  on  earth  who  sing  a  part,  and  cannot 
hear  or  will  not  recognize  each  other's  music,  while 
(xod  is  listening  to  all ;  of  the  two  sides  of  the  choir 
in  heaver,  and  earth ;  and  of  the  voices  in  the 
higher  choir  which  I  should  hear  no  more  on  earth. 

"  I  felt  lifted  into  a  higher  world.  And  we  two 
walked  home  in  one  of  those  restful  silences  which 
sometimes  say  so  much  more  than  words. 

"  It  broke  a  little  rudely  on  this  when,  at  the 
gate  of  the  chateau,  M.  la  Mothe's  servant  met  us, 
exclaiming : 

"  '  Ah,  madam e  !  M.  le  Comte  is  much  agitated. 
He  says  it  is  ten  minutes  after  the  time  when  ma- 
lame  brings  him  his  posset.' 

"  We  hastened  into  the  salon.  M.  la  Mothe  was 
indeed  much  agitated. 

'"Pardon  me,  my  friend,'  she  said;  "I  am  ten 
minutes  late.' 

"  He  pointed  to  the  clock. 

'"Ten,  madam!'  he  exclaimed.  'Fourteen  and 
a  half,  at  the  least !  when  the  physician  said  every 
minute  was  of  consequence.  But  we  must  bear  it, 
no  doubt.  Neglect  is  the  portion  of  the  aged. 
And  madame  has  her  salvation  to  accomplish, 
no  doubt  !  In  my  youth  married  women  accom- 
plished their  salvation  in  accomplishing  the  comfort 
of  their  husbands.  But  times  change.  In  a  few 
months  I  shall,  no  doubt,  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
neglect ;  and  then  madame  can  accomplish  her  sal« 


ON   BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


197 


ration  without  further  interruption.  Heaven  grant 
it  may  prove  your  salvation  after  all !  Those 
learned  gentlemen,  the  Jesuits,  think  otherwise,  and 
they  have  great  saints  among  them.' 

"  I  shall  never  forget  the  sweet  humility  with 
which  she  acknowledged  the  justice  of  his  re- 
proaches, and  tact  and  tenderness  with  which  she 
soothed  his  feeble  irritability  into  tranquillity  again. 

"  '  You  mean  well,  no  doubt,  my  poor  friend  !' 
he  said  at  last,  with  a  lofty  air  of  forbearance ; 
'and  no  doubt  we  shall   not   soon   have  such   an 


omission  a^ain.' 


" '  Ah,  my  child !'  she  said  to  me,  as  she  came 
into  my  room  afterwards  ;  '  if  you  had  only  known 
how  good  he  was,  and  how  patient  with  me,  when  I 
was  wild  and  young  !  These  little  irritations  are  not 
from  the  heart,  but  from  the  brain,  which  is  over- 
tasked and  tired.  He  had  no  sleep  last  night  on  ac- 
count of  the  gout,  and  I  read  aloud  to  him  romances, 
insipid  enough,  I  think,  to  send  me  asleep  in  a  house 
on  fire.  But  they  had  no  effect  on  him,  the  puin 
was  so  acute.' 

"  The  tears  came  into  my  eyes.  She  thought 
nothing;  of  her  own  fatigue. 

"  '  "You  need  not  pity  me,'  she  said,  with  her  own 
bright  smile.  '  I  am  an  easy,  happy  old  woman,  far 
too  contented,  I  fear,  witli  the  world  and  with  my 
lot  in  it.  If  1  have  any  virtue,  it  is  good  temper; 
and  that  is  scarcely  a  virtue,  not  certainly  a  grace- 
indeed,  merely  a  little  hereditary  advantage,  like 
skin  that  heals  quickly.' 

" '  I  was  not  pitying  you,  madame,'  I  ventured  to 
17* 


I98  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA 

say;  'I  was  only  thinking  how  much  better  God 
makes  our  crosses  for  us  than  they  make  them  even 
at  Port  Royal.' 

"  '  Alas,  my  child  !'  she  sighed  ;  '  there  is  no  need 
for  the  holy  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  Port  Royal  to 
make  their  own  crosses.  The  Jesuits  are  preparing 
plenty  of  crosses,  I  fear,  for  them.  But  do  not,  I 
entreat  you,  dignify  such  little  prickles  as  mine 
by  the  name  of  crosses.' 

"I  made  no  answer,  save  by  kissing  her  hand. 
For  I  thought  her  crosses  were  none  the  worse 
discipline  because  to  her  they  seemed  only  prickles; 
and  her  graces  all  the  more  genuine  and  sweet 
because  to  her  they  seemed  only  '  little  hereditary 
advantages.' 

"  It  is  such  a  help  to  '  crosses,'  in  the  work  they 
have  to  do  for  us,  when  they  have  no  chance  oi 
looking  grand  enough  to  be  set  up  on  pedestals  and 
adored;  and  it  is  such  a  blessing  for 'graces'  when 
they  are  not  clothed  in  Sunday  or  'religious' 
clothes,  so  as  to  have  any  opportunity  of  looking 
at  themselves  at  all. 

"  Good  temper,  kindliness,  cheerfulness,  lowliness, 
tenderness,  justice,  generosity,  seem  to  me  to  lose 
Ho  much  of  their  beauty  and  fragrance  when  they 
change  their  sweet  familiar  home-names  (which  are 
also  their  true  Christian  names)  for  three-syllabled 
saintly  titles,  such  as  '  holy  indifference,'  or  '  saintly 
resignation,'  and  pace  demurely  about  in  proces- 
sions, saying,  in  every  deprecatory  look  and  regu- 
lated gesture, '  Fee  how  unlike  the  rest  of  the  world 
we  are !' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  ,yf 

";  When  saw  we  Thee  an  hungered?' — h^u  uuicl) 
chat  means !  It  was  not  so  much,  I  think,  t*iat  the* 
'righteous'  had  not  recognized  the  Master  in  thei* 
acts,  as  that  they  did  not  recall  the  acts.  They  did 
not  recognize  the  sweet  blossoms  of  their  own 
graces,  because  His  life  had  gone  down  to  the  root 
and  flowed  through  every  stem  and  tAvig  of  every- 
day feeling,  and  overflowed  in  every  bud  and  bios 
som  of  every-day  words  and  works,  as  naturalis- 
ed inevitably  as  a  fountain  bubbles  up  in  spray. 
It  was  not  His  presence  they  had  been  unconscious 
of,  but  their  own  services.  For  it  seems  to  me  just 
the  acts  religious  people  least  remember  that  are 
the  most  beautiful,  and  that  Christ  most  remembers, 
because  they  flow  from  the  deepest  source ;  not 
from  a  conscious  purpose,  but  from  a  pervading 
instinctive  life. 

"  In  such  unconscious  acts  the  noble  men  and 
women  of  Port  Royal  are  rich  indeed.  I  love,  for 
instance,  to  think  how  M.  de  St.  Cyran,  when  him- 
self a  prisoner  in  the  Bastille,  sold  some  of  the  few 
precious  books  remaining  to  buy  clothes  for  two 
fellow-prisoners  of  his— the  Baron  and  Baroness 
de  Beau  Soleil— and  said  to  the  lady  who  under- 
took the  commission  for  him,  'I  do  not  know  wl  at  is 
necessary,  but  some  one  lias  told  me  that  gentlemen 
and  ladies  of  their  condition  ought  not  to  be  seen 
in  company  without  gold  lace  for  the  men  and  black 
lace  for  the  women.  Pray  purchase  the  best,  and 
let  everything  be  done  modestly,  and  yet  hand- 
somely, that  when  they  see  each  other  they  may 
forget,  for  a  few  minutes  at  least,  that  they  are  cap 


.oo  ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

ti \es  Madame  de  Beau  SoJeil'a  beautiful '  worldly ' 
lace  Mill  perhaps  prove  a  more  religious  robe  for 
M.  de  St.  Cyran  than  his  own  '  religious  habit.' 

"  The  selling  of  the  church  plate  at  Port  R<  yai 
to  relieve  the  poor  is  certainly  as  much  a  religious 
act  as  the  buying  it.  The  voluntary  desecration  of 
their  church  into  a  granary,  to  save  the  corn  of  the 
poor  peasants  from  plunder  during  the  wars  of  the 
bVonde,  was  certainly  a  true  consecration  of  it. 
The  lovely  wax  models  Avhich  the  sister  Angelique 
makes  to  purchase  comforts  for  our  Royalist  coun- 
trywomen, heretics  though  she  believes  us  to  be, 
seem  (to  us  at  least)  a  labour  of  love  sure  not  to  be 
forgotten  above.  The  delight  in  acts  of  kindness 
to  others,  for  which  Blaise  Pascal  is  said  to  torture 
himself  by  pressing  the  sharp  studs  of  his  iron 
girdle  into  the  flesh,  may  prove  to  have  been  more 
sanctifying  than  the  pain  by  which  he  seeks  to  ex- 
piate it.  The  homely  services  which  Jacqueline 
Pascal  rendered  her  little  dying  niece  on  the  nights 
she  spent  in  nursing  her  through  '  confluent  small 
pox,'  may  prove  to  have  been  more  '  divine  offices  ' 
than  those  she  spent  so  many  nights,  half-benumbed 
with  cold,  in  reciting. 

"  And  so,  after  ah,  from  the  most  self-questioning 
religious  life,  as  well  as  from  the  lowliest  life  of 
love  that  scarcely  dared  call  itself  religious,  may 
come  that  same  answer  of  the  righteous.  He  who 
scarce  dared  lift  his  eyes  to  heaven,  saying  with 
rapture,  '  Was  it  indeed  Thee  to  whom  I  gave  that 
cup   of   cold    water  ?'  —  and   the   austere   Puritau 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  201 

(Catholic  or  Protestant,  saying),  '  Was  it  indeed 
the  feeding  and  clothing,  those  little  forgotten  acts 
of  kindness  I  thought  nothing  of,  that  were  pleas- 
ing Thee  ?" 

"  February. — I  wonder  what  Olive  is  doing  and 
learning.  These  misunderstandings  of  God  and  of 
one  another  perplex  me  at  times  not  a  little.  I 
wonder  if  she  has  any  perplexities  of  the  same  kind 
in  England  ? 

"  This  morning  Madame  la  Mothetold  me  a  beau- 
tiful saying  of  M.  Arnauld  d'Andilly,  brother  to 
the  Mere  Angelique,  when  some  one  was  exhorting 
him  to  rest,  '  There  is  all  eternity,'  he  replied,  '  to 
rest  in.' 

"This  evening  I  repeated  this  to  Barbe.  She 
replied  :  '  It  reminds  me  of  a  saying  of  a  good 
pastor  of  ours,  who  said,  when  some  one  tried  to 
comfort  him  in  severe  sickness  by  wishing  him 
health  and  rest,  "  Mon  lit  dc  saute  et  de  repos  sera 
dans  le  ciel."  '* 

"  The  two  sides  of  the  choir  again  ! — taking  up 
the  responses  from  each  other  without  knowing 
anything  of  each  other's  singing  !  How  wonderful 
it  all  is  !  This  deafness  to  each  other's  music ;  theso 
misunderstandings  of  each  other's  words  !  this  deaf- 
ness to  what  God  tells  us  of  Himself  in  the  Gos- 
pels, and  in  Ihe  world;  these  misunderstandings  of 
Him  !  And  His  patient  listening,  and  understand 
ing  us  all  ! 

*  Told  of  M.  Drolincourt,  pastor  of  Cliarenton,  who  died 
la  1069. 


Chapter  VI. 


OLIVE    S    RECOLLECTIONS. 


;  S  Aunt  Dorothy  continued  to  recover,  I 
knew  the  dreaded  clash  of  arms  with 
Annis  Nye  could  not  be  long  delayed ; 
and  I  had  been  casting  about  in  my 
mind  for  some  means  of  settling  Annis  for  the  time 
elsewhere,  when  the  storm  burst  suddenly  upon  me. 
Maidie  and  I  had  come  from  a  ramble  near  the 
town  ;  Maidie  enraptured  with  her  first  experience 
of  the  treasures  of  the  woods,  having  that  day  dis- 
covered that  in  the  autumn  the  trees  drop  showers 
of  inestimable  jewels  in  the  form  of  spiky  green 
balls,  which,  when  opened,  proved  to  be  each  a  cas- 
ket containing  a  glossy,  brown  lump  of  delight, 
called  in  the  tongues  of  men  a  horse-chestnut,  b  it 
in  the  tongue  of  Maidie  having  no  word  adequate 
to  express  its  beauty  and  preciousness.  I  was  bring- 
ing home  a  store  of  these  treasures  in  a  kerchief; 
while  Maidie  held  my  hand,  discoursing,  like  a  ;*-«- 
son  just  entered  on  a  fortune,  as  to  how  much  ot 
her  wealth  she  would  bestow  on  Annis,  and  how 
much  on  Aunt  Dorothy;  baby  she  considered  not 
(202) 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


203 


able  to  appreciate ;  but  in  time,  perhaps,  she  might 
grow  up  to  it,  and  'Jien  she  should  have  her  share. 

But  at  the  dooi  Aunt  Dorothy  met  us,  pale  and 
agitated. 

"Child!"  she  said,  in  the  tone  of  one  deeply 
wronged — "  Olive !  I  did  not  look  for  this  from 
tbee !" 

In  her  hand  was  a  sheet  of  writing.  She  gave  it 
me  with  a  trembling  hand. 

"  Read  it,  Olive,"  she  said.  "  It  is  from  George 
Fox,  now  in  the  House  of  Correction  at  Derby ! 
a  person  concerning  whom  no  sober  person  can  en- 
tertain a  hope,  save  that  he  may  be  mad.  And  it 
is  sent  to  your  maid  Annis  Xye ;  and  is  by  her  ac- 
knowledged. He  is  a  Quakei-,  Olive  !  One  of  that 
mad  sect  opposed  to  all  rule  in  Church,  Army,  and 
State.  I  knew  the  perilous  latitude  of  thy  husband's 
courses.  I  had  even  fears  as  to  his  being  entirely 
free  from  Arminian  heresies ;  but  this,  I  confess,  1 
had  not  looked  for  from  thee  ! " 

We  came  into  the  parlour;  and  while  I  was  read- 
ing, Maidie  took  advantage  of  the  silence  to  display 
her  treasures. 

"Poor  innocent !"  said  Aunt  Dorothy,  taking  her 
on  her  knee,  and  kissing  her.  "  Poor  innocent  lamb  ! 
entrusted  to  a  very  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  I  little 
thought  to  live  to  see  this!  Pretty!  yes,  pretty, 
my  lamb  !"  she  added,  absently,  a?  the  little  hands 
were  held  up  to  her  with  the  new  wonders. 

Biit  this  reception  of  her  treasures  was  far  too  ab- 
sent and  parenthetical  to  satisfy  Maidie,  who  slip- 
ped ofl*  to  the  ground,  and,  calling  on  Annis.  was 
making  her  way  to  the  kitchen,  when  Aunt  Derulhy 


204  oy  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

anticipated  her  by  closing  the  door  and  planting 
the  little  one  summarily  ol  the  table,  with  an  in- 
junction to  be  quiet. 

"  The  moment  is  come !"  she  said,  solemnly,  to 
me.     "  This  house  shall  never  be  profaned  by  the 
presence  of  a  person  who  calls  Mr.  Baxter  a  '  priest, 
his  church  a  steeple-house,  and  George  Fox  a  servant 
of  the  Lord." 

"She  is  fatherless  and  motherless,  Aunt  Dorothy," 
I  said.  "  What  would  you  have  me  to  do  ?  She 
cannot  be  turned  houseless  on  the  world  to  starve." 

"  Let  her  go  to  her  Friends,  as  she  calls  them," 
said  Aunt  Dorothy—"  her  '  children  of  light ! '  Alas 
for  the  land !  there  is  no  lack  of  them.  Although 
in  the  town  Mr.  Baxter  has  silenced  them,  by  a  re- 
markable discussion  he  held  with  them  in  the  church, 
I  doubt  not  they  lie,  like  other  foxes,  in  the  holes 
and  corners  of  the  hills  around.  Although,  in  good 
sooth,  the  safest  and  mercifulest  place  for  Quakers, 
in  my  judgment,  is  a  prison,  where  they  cannot 
spread  their  poison,  or  make  everybody  angry  with 
them,  as  they  do  everywhere  else.  And  to  the  in- 
side of  a  prison,  it  seems,  the  maid  is  no  stranger 
already.  I  am  no  persecutor,  Olive.  But  when 
people  scatter  tire-brands,  the  only  mercy  to  them 
and  to  the  world  is  to  tie  their  hands.  Do  you 
know,"  she  added,  "  for  what  George  Fox  is  in  the 
House  of  Correction  ?  For  brawling  in  the  church ; 
in  a  solemn  congregation  of  ministers,  soldiers,  and 
people,  which  had  assembled  to  hear  godly  Colonel 
Barton  preach  !" 

"Is  Colonel  Barton  a  minister?"  I  said. 

u  Belike  not,"  she  replied,  a  little  testily.    "J  am 


ON  BOTH   SIDES    OF  THE  SEA-  eo$ 

not  for  defending  Colonel  Barton,  nor  the  times, 
nor  the  ways  of  those  in  power  ('  in  authority''  I  will 
not  call  them,  for  authority  in  these  disorderly  days 
there  is  none).  But  there  are  degrees  in  disorder. 
Colonel  Barton  preaching  in  the  pulpit  is  one  thing, 
and  George  Fox  the  weaver's  son  crying  out  in  the 
pews  is  another." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  very  bad?"  I  said. 

"  What  need  we  care  what  an  ignorant  upstart 
like  that  said,  Olive  ?  It  was  where  he  said  it  that 
was  the  crime.  No  place  is  sacred  to  the  youngster. 
He  preaches  in  market-places  against  cheating  and 
cozening,  in  fairs  against  mountebanks,  in  courts  of 
justice  against  the  magistrates,  in  churches  against 
the  ministers." 

"  But,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  I  ventured  to  say,  "  if  he 
must  preach  at  all,  at  least  this  way  seems  to  me 
better  than  preaching  in  church  against  the  mounte- 
banks, and  in  the  markets  against  the  priests.  To 
tell  people  their  own  sins  to  their  faces  is  more  like 
right  preaching,  is  it  not,  than  telling  them  of  othei 
people's  sins  behind  their  backs  ?  Whether  it  is 
wrong  or  not  for  George  Fox  to  exhort  the  ministers 
before  their  own  congregations  who  dislike  it,  I  think 
it  would  be  meaner  and  more  wrong  to  i  ail  at  them 
in  a  congregation  of  Quakers  who  might  like  it." 

"  If  you  can  defend  George  Fox,  Olive,"  she  said, 
M  we  may  as  well  give  lip  debating  anything  !  At 
all  events,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  whatever  divisions 
there  may  be  on  other  questions,  the  professing 
Church  in  general  is  of  one  opinion  is  to  th«  Qua- 
kers. Whatever  you  may  think  of  the  mercy  of  im 
18 


2o6  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

prisoning  Quakers  as  regards  their  souls,  there  is  i.o 
doubt  it  is  a  mercy  to  their  bodies.  For  George 
Fox  is  no  sooner  at  liberty  from  the  prison,  than  he 
begins  exhorting  every  one,  making  every  one  so 
angry  that  he  is  whipped  and  hunted  from  one  town 
to  another,  and  finds  no  rest  until  he  is  mercifully 
•?hut  up  in  another  prison.  And  I  much  doubt  if 
you  will  not  find  it  the  same  with  Annis  Nye." 
I  was  not  without  fears  of  the  kind.  But  I  said, — 
"  She  has  shown  a  marvellous  tenderness  and  love 
for  the  babes,  Aunt  Dorothy ;  and  since  she  came 
to  us,  she  has  been  as  quiet  as  any  other  Christian. 
I  dare  not  do  anything  to  drive  her  forth  into  the 
cruel  world  ;  for  she  is  tender  and  gentle  as  any 
gentlewoman  born." 

"  Tender  and  gentle  indeed !"  exclaimed  Aunt 
Dorothy.  "  Yes,  she  told  me  George  Fox's  letter 
was  written  to  the  Friends,  and  other  '  tender  peo- 
ple,' wherever  they  might  be.  I,  at  least,  am  not 
one  of  the  tender  people,  to  tolerate  such  ways.  I 
hear  much  talk  of  toleration  ;  and  I  will  not  deny 
that  even  Mr.  Baxter  has  looser  thoughts  on  Chris- 
tian concord  than  I  altogether  like.  He  would  be 
contert  if  all  Christians  would  unite  on  the  ground 
of  the  Apostles'  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the 
Ten  Commandments.  Whereas,  in  my  opinion,  you 
might  nigh  as  well  have  no  walls  at  all  around  the 
fold  as  walls  any  wolf  can  leap  in  over  to  devour  the 
sheep,  and  any  poor  lamb  may  leap  out  over  to  lose 
itself  in  the  wilderness.  Why,  a  Socinian,  an  Ar- 
miuian,  a  Papist,  for  I  ought  I  know,  might  sign 
the  Apostles'  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  207 

Commandments  (praying  and  keeping  them  is,  no 
doubt,  another  thing.)  Belike  any  one  might,  but  a 
Quaker;  for  the  Quakers  will  sign  nothing,  so  that 
they  are  safe  to  be  out  of  a  fold  that  has  any  walls, 
which  is  some  consolation.  Everybody's  toleration 
must  stop  somewhere;  yours,  I  suppose,  would  stop 
at  house-breaking.  Mine  stops  at  sacrilege  or 
church-breaking ;  and  that  I  consider  every  Quaker 
may  be  considered  to  be  guilty  of.  So,  Olive,  you 
must  o'en  choose  between  Annis  Nye  and  me.  Your 
company,  and  that  of  the  babes,  poor  lambs,  is  pleas- 
ant to  me.  But  I  have  not  lifted  up  my  testimony 
against  my  mother's  son,  whom  I  love  as  my  own 
soul,  and  forsaken  the  only  place  I  shall  ever  feel  a 
home  on  earth,  to  have  my  house  made  a  refuge,  or 
a  madhouse,  for  Quakers,  Jews,  Turks,  and  Infidels." 

At  this  point  Aunt  Dorothy's  face  was  consider- 
ably flushed,  and  her  voice  raised  in  a  way  which 
was  altogether  too  much  for  Maidie's  feelings.  Her 
eyes  were  fixed  anxiously  on  Aunt  Dorothy's  ;  two 
large  tears  gathered  in  them,  and  her  lip  began  to 
quiver  ominously,  when  I  caught  her  softly  in  my 
arms,  just  in  time  to  hush  a  great  sob  on  my  bosom. 

Poor  little  Maidie  !  I  do  not  think  she  had  ever 
seen  any  one  really  angry  before,  except  herself; 
and  not  being  able  to  distinguish  between  right- 
eous ecclesiastical  anger  and  ordinary  unecclesias- 
tieal  hastiness  of  temper,  it  was  some  time  before 
she  could  be  induced  to  respond  to  all  the  help- 
less blandishments  and  tender  epithets  which  poor 
Aunt  Dorothy  lavished  on  her,  with  anything  but 
M  Naughty,  naughty  !   go  away  !" — an  insult  which 


208  ON  E  1TH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

Aunt  Dorothy  bore  in  patience  once,  but  on  its 
repetition,  observed,  "That  comes  of  Antinomian 
serving-wenches,  Olive  !  The  child  has  no  idea  of 
any  one  being  angry  about  anything  ;  a  most  dan- 
gerous delusion  !  Mark  my  words,  Olive  !  the  world 
is  not  Eden,  and  Antinomianism  is  the  natural  re- 
ligi<  m  of  us  all ;  and  it  is  too  plain  Maidie  is  not 
free  from  the  infection  of  nature ;  and  if  you  bring 
up  the  babes  to  look  for  nothing  but  fair  weather, 
they  will  find  the  Lord's  rough  winds  only  the 
harder  to  bear.  Thou  wast  not  brought  up  alto- 
gether on  sweetmeats,  Olive  !  Though  may  be  on 
too  many  after  all.  It  seems,  however,  that  her 
poor  old  aunt's  ways  are  not  to  the  babe's  mind  ;  so 
I  suppose  I  had  better  withdraw." 

Nothing  makes  one  feel  more  helpless  than  the 
uncontrollable  repugnance  of  a  child  to  some  one  it 
ought  to  love.  I  knew  that  Aunt  Dorothy  loved 
Maidie  dearly,  and  that  her  sharp  voice  and  man- 
ner were  nothing  but  the  pain  of  repressed  and 
wounded  feeling.  But  there  were  no  words  by 
which  I  could  translate  those  harsh  tones  into  Mai- 
die's  language  of  love.  On  the  other  hand,  I  knew 
that  Maidie's  repugnance  was  not  naughtiness,  but 
a  real  uncontrollable  terror,  which  nothing  but 
soothing  and  caressing  could  allay.  Yet,  while 
thus  seeking  to  soothe  the  child,  I  felt  conscious  I 
was  regarded  by  Aunt  Dorothy  as  one  of  Solomon's 
unwise  parents  ;  and  I  knew  that,  if  it  had  been  in 
her  power,  she  would  have  sentenced  me,  as  in  our 
childhood,  to  learn  a  punith  e  "  chapter  in  Proverbs." 

My  confusion  was  still  worse  confounded  by  the 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA.  2og 

gentle  opening  of  the  door,  and  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  Annis  with  a  bundle  in  her  arms,  at  sight 
of  whose  calm  face  Maidie's  countenance  bright- 
ened, and  she  stretched  out  her  hands  to  go  to  her. 

Annis  softly  laid  down  her  bundle  and  took  the 
child  in  her  arms,  the  little  hands  clinging  fondly- 
round  her  neck. 

It  was  the  last  drop  in  Aunt  Dorothy's  cup  and 
mine.  "  The  babe  at  least  has  chosen,  Olive  !"  she 
said,  in  a  dry,  hard  voice.  "And  I  suppose  the 
mother  will  obey,  according  to  the  rule  of  these  re- 
publican days."  Aunt  Dorothy  was  really  "  naughty" 
at  that  moment,  in  the  fullest  acceptation  of  the 
word  ;  and  she  knew  it,  which  made  her  worse. 

Gently  Annis  replaced  the  child  in  my  arms,  but 
there  was  a  tremor  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke. 

"  Olive  Antony,"  she  said,  "  thee  and  thine  have 
been  true  friends  to  me.  But  it  is  best  I  should 
leave  thee.  I  have  gathered  my  goods  together  " 
(they  were  easily  gathered,  poor  orphan  maid), 
"  and  I  am  going.     Fare  thee  well !" 

My  heart  ached.  I  knew  her  determined  ways 
so  well ;  I  knew  so  well  the  hard  things  that  must 
await  her  in  the  world  ;  and  I  felt  as  if  by  even  for 
a  moment  debating  in  my  mind  the  possibility  of 
letting  her  depart,  I  was  accessory  to  her  banish- 
ment, and  so  betraying  my  husband's  trust. 

"  Not  so,  Annis,"  I  said  ;  "  this  once  I  must  be 
mistress.  How  else  could  I  answer  to  my  husband 
for  his  trust  of  the  fatherless  ; — or,  what  is  more,  to 
the  Father  of  the  fatherless  ?" 

"Thy  husband  had  no  power  to  entrust  the  with 


2io  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

me,"  shi  3plied,  gently  ;  "  nor  have  I  the  power  to 
commit  1^9  self  to  the  care  of  any  mortal.  God  has 
entrusted  rie  with  myself,  soul  and  body,  and  I 
answer  only  to  Him." 

"  But  think,  Annis,  of  the  ruthlessness  of  the 
world,"  I  said  ;  a  weak  argument,  I  felt,  the  moment 
I  had  uttered  it,  and  one  which  with  Annis  would 
be  sure  to  turn  the  wrong  way.  The  softness  which 
Maidie's  caresses  had  brought  into  her  eyes  left 
them,  and  a  lofty  courage  came  instead. 

"  Bonds  and  imprisonments  may  await  me,"  she 
said.  "  If  it  were  death,  who  that  loved  God  was 
ever  turned  from  His  "ways  by  that  ?" 

"  But  the  babes,"  I  pleaded,  "  the  little  ones,  wih 
miss  thee  so  sorely." 

A  tender  smile  came  over  her  face  as  she  glanced 
at  Maidie. 

"  I  have  thought  of  that.  I  have  pleaded  it  re- 
belliously  with  my  Lord  many  days,"  she  said  ; 
"  but  it  is  of  no  avail.  His  fire  burnetii  in  me,  and 
who  can  stand  it  ?     I  must  go." 

"  But  whither,  Annis  ?"  I  said. 

"  There  is  a  concern  on  my  spirit,"  she  said,  "  for 
my  people  and  my  father's  house.  They  reviled 
me,  and  drove  me  from  them.  I  must  return.  They 
have  smitten  me  on  the  right  cheek ;  I  must  turn 
to  them  the  left.  Maybe  they  will  hear ;  but  if  not, 
I  must  speak.  Or  if  they  will  not  let  me  speak,  I 
must  be  silent  among  them,  and  suffer.  Sometimes 
silence  sjjeaks  best. — Fare  thee  well,  Olive  Antony, 
and  ihou,  aged  Dorothy  Drayton  !  I  have  said  to 
thee  what  was  given  me  to  say.     Thou  hast  done 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  2ll 

me  110  despite.  It  is  not  for  thy  words  I  depart 
If  >;hey  had  been  softer  than  butter,  I  dared  not 
have  tarried.  The  Power  is  on  my  spirit,  and  I 
must  go." 

She  kissed  Maidie,  and  I  kissed  her  serene  fore- 
head. Further  remonstrance  was  in  vain.  I  would 
have  pressed  money  on  her,  but  she  refused. 

"  I  have  no  need,"  she  said,  with  a  smile.  "  I 
shall  not  be  forsaken.  And  I  have  not  earned  it. 
Little  enough  have  I  done  for  all  thee  and  thine 
hath  been  to  me." 

With  tears  I  stood  at  the  door  and  watched  her 
quietly  pass  down  the  street,  not  knowing  whither 
she  went.  But  before  she  had  gone  many  steps 
Aunt  Dorothy  appeared  with  a  basket  laden  with 
meat,  bread,  and  wine,  which,  hurrying  after  Annis, 
she  succeeded  in  making  her  take. 

"  It  is  written,  '  Thou  shalt  not  receive  him  into 
thy  house,  or  bid  him  God  speed,'  said  she  apolo- 
getically to  me,  as  she  re-entered  the  door.  "  But 
it  is  not  written,  '  Thou  shalt  send  him  out  of  thy 
house  hungry  and  fasting.'  " 

"  It  is  written,  '  If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed 
him,' "  I  said. 

''I  had  thought  of  that  text  also,  Olive,"  said 
she,  "  but  I  do  not  think  it  quite  fits.  For  the  poor 
maid  is  not  mine  enemy.  God  knows  I  would  not 
have  shut  house  or  heart,  against  her  if  she  had  been 
only  that  !" 

We  were  very  silent  that  day.  The  house  seemed 
very  empty  and  quiet,  when  Maidie's  last  sobbing 
entreaties  for  Annis  were  hushed,  and,  the  babe« 


212  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

being  asleep,  Aunt  Dorothy  and  I  seated  ourselves 
by  the  fireside. 

"  It  was  a  hard  duty,  Olive,  to  speak  as  I  did ; 
and  belike,  after  all,  the  flesh  had  its  evil  share  in 
the  matter,"  she  said,  os  we  parted  for  the  night. 
'*  But  I  did  it.     And  I  think  it  has  been  owned." 

But  I  did  not  think  her  conscience  was  as  easy 
as  she  tried  to  persuade  herself. 

The  night  was  wild  and  stormy,  and  I  heard  her 
pacing  unquietly  about  her  room  and  opening  her 
casement  more  than  once,  as  I  sat  watching  Maiclie 
in  a  restless  sleep,  and  reading  the  papers  by  George 
Fox  which  Annis  had  left  behind  her.  The  words 
were  such  as  no  Christian,  it  seemed  to  me,  could 
but  deem  good.  Some  of  them  rang  like  an  ancient 
hymn  out  of  some  grand  old  liturgy. 

"  Oh,  therefore,"  he  wrote  from  his  prison,  "  mind 
the  pure  spirit  of  the  everlasting  God,  which  will 
teach  you  to  use  the  creatures  in  their  right  place, 
and  which  judgeth  the  evil.  To  Thee,  O  God,  be 
all  glory  and  honour,  who  art  Lord  of  all,  visible 
and  invisible  !  To  Thee  be  all  praise,  who  bringest 
out  of  the  deep  to  Thyself,  O  powerful  God,  who 
art  worthy  of  all  glory.  For  the  Lord  who  created 
all,  and  gives  life  and  strength  to  all,  is  over  all, 
and  is  merciful  to  all.  So  Thou  who  hast  made  all, 
and  art  over  all,  to  Thee  be  all  glory  !  In  Thee  is 
my  strength  and  refreshment,  my  life,  my  joy,  and 
my  gladness,  my  rejoicing  and  glorying  for  ever- 
more. 1  Dr  there  is  peace  in  resting  in  the  I  ord 
Jesus." 

"  Love  the  cross;  and  satisfy  not  your  own  minds 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


213 


in  the  flesh,  but  prize  your  time,  while  you  have  it, 
and  walk  up  to  that  you  know,  in  obedience  to  God ; 
then  you  shall  not  be  condemned  for  that  you  know 
not ;  but  for  that  you  know  and  do  not  obey." 

So  I  read  on,  watching  Maidie's  restless  tossings 
and  her  flushed  cheek,  hearing  now  and  then  Aunt 
D01  )thy's  uneasy  footsteps,  and  wondering  whether 
Annis  Nye  had  found  shelter,  or  whether  she  were 
still  wandering  along  the  wet  and  windy  roads  ; 
whilst  beneath  these  thoughts  every  now  and  then 
I  kept  falling  back  on  the  things  that  were  never 
long  absent  from  me  :  those  two  Puritan  armies 
watching  each  other  in  Scotland,  with  the  "cove- 
nanted king  "  at  the  head  of  one,  and  Oliver  at  the 
heart  of  the  other,  where  my  husband,  and  Roger, 
and  Job  Forster  were.  I  thought  also  of  mv  father 
and  Aunt  Dorothy  journeying  through  the  desola- 
tions made  by  the  Thirty  Years'  religious  war  in 
Germany.  Who  could  say  when  our  war  would 
cease,  and  what  further  desolations  it  would  leave 
behind  ?  Then  my  mind  wandered  to  Lettice  Dav- 
en ant,  from  whom  Aunt  Dorothy  had  lately  received 
a  letter,  which  had  made  her  uneasy,  from  its  com- 
paring certain  godly  Catholic  people  who  live  in  a 
nunnery  called  Port  Royal  with  the  godly  people 
in  England.  Thence,  reverting  to  my  early  days 
I  thought  how  small  the  divisions  of  the  great  bat- 
tle-field seemed  then,  and  how  complicated  now  1 
And,  looking  fondly  at  Maidie  and  the  babe,  it 
occurred  to  me  whether  the  child's  simple  divisions 
of  "  good  "  and  "  naughty  "  might  not  after  all  be 
more  like  those  of  the  angels  than  we  aie  apt  to 
think. 


1I4  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

Aunt  Dorothy  looked  pale  and  haggard  the  next 
morning,  but  she  betrayed  nothing  of  her  nightly 
investigations  into  the  weather,  only  manifesting 
her  uneasiness  by  looking  up  anxiously  when  a 
peculiarly  violent  gust  of  wind  drove  the  rain 
against  the  windows,  and  by  an  unusual  tolerance 
and  gentleness  with  Maidie,  who  was  in  a  very  fret- 
ful temper. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  children  were  asleep, 
and  Aunt  Dorothy  and  I  were  left  alone  :  "  It  is 
very  strange  !"  she  said  ;  "  something  in  that  Qua- 
ker woman's  ways  seems  to  have  marvellously 
moved  my  little  maid  Sarah.  I  found  the  child 
crying  over  her  Bible,  and  she  said,  '  Annis  Nye 
had  told  her  God  would  teach  her  ;  but  she  wished 
He  would  send  her  some  one  like  Annis  again  to 
help  her  to  learn.' 

"  It  is  very  strange,  Olive,"  she  added.  "  The 
directions  about  heretics  coming  to  one's  house  are 
so  very  plain.  But  then  I  always  thought  of  a 
heretic  as  a  noisy  troublesome  person,  puffed  up 
with  vanity  and  conceit,  whom  it  would  be  quite 
a  pleasure  to  put  down.  It  is  rather  hard  that  a 
heretic  should  come  to  me  in  the  shape  of  a  poor, 
lonely  orphan  maid,  for  the  most  part  quiet  and 
peaceable,  and  so  like  a  sober  Christian  ;  that  1 
should  have  to  send  her  away  alone  no  one  knows 
where  ;  and  that  such  a  night  would  follow,  just  as 
if  on  purpose  to  make  right  look  like  wrong.  I  begin 
to  see  a  mercy  in  the  persecutions  of  the  Church. 
When  one  comes  to  know  the  hei-etics,  the  natural 
irau  gets  such  a  terrible  bold  of  one,  that  it  would 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


J15 


Certainly  be  easier  to  suffer  the  punishment  than  to 
inflict  it.  Although,  of  course,  I  am  not  going  to 
shrink  from  my  duty  on  account  of  its  not  being 
easy." 

It  was  Aunt  Dorothy's  first  experience  of  being 
at  the  board  of  the  Star-chamber  instead  of  its  bar. 
And  she  certainly  did  not  enjoy  it. 

The  year  1651  seemed  to  roll  on  :ather  heavily 
at  Kidderminster. 

Aunt  Dorothy  kept  her  private  fasts,  in  loyal 
contempt  of  the  Parliament,  especially  that  one 
which  Mr.  Philip  Henry,  and  other  Royalist  Pres- 
byterians, so  faithfully  held  until  some  years  after 
the  Restoration,  in  memory  of  the  death  of  King 
Charles  the  First. 

Mr.  Baxter  helped  to  make  many  people  good 
by  his  fervent  sermons,  and  meantime  made  many 
good  people  angry  by  his  "  convincing  "  controver- 
sial books,  calling  out  fifty  angry,  controversial 
books  in  reply. 

Meantime,  in  a  quiet  hollow  of  the  hills  near  the 
town,  I  discovered  a  small  manor-house  where  cer- 
tain Episcopal  Christians  met  secretly  to  hear  a  de- 
prived clergyman  read  the  proscribed  liturgy.  And 
more  than  once!  crept  in  among  them  to  join  in 
the  familiar  prayers.  The  calm,  ancient  words 
seemed  to  lift  me  so  far  above  the  dust  and  din  of 
our  present  strifes.  Once  I  heard  Dr.  Jeremy  Tay- 
lor preach  a  sermon  to  this  little  company.  And 
the  rich  intertwining  harmonies  of  his  poetical 
speech,  and  the  golds,  crimsons,  and  purples  of  bia 


216  ON  BOTH  SILKS    OF  HIE  SEA 

eloquent  imagery,  seemed  (o  transform  the  plain 
old  hall,  in  which  we  listened  to  them,  into  a  cathe- 
dral glorious  with  organ  music  and  choristers'  voices, 
and  with  the  shadows  and  illuminations  of  richly- 
sculptured  shrines  and  richly- coloured  windows. 

So  the  year  passed  on.  To  us,  chronicled  in  skir- 
mishes and  sieges  and  political  changes  ;  and  to 
Mfidie  in  daisies  and  cowslips,  primroses,  violets, 
strawberries,  and  heart-stirring  promises  of  another 
Eldorado  of  those  living  jewels  known  among  men 
as  horse-chestnuts. 

Letters  came  frequently,  after  the  Battle  of  Dun- 
bar, from  Scotland. 

One  from  Job  Forster,  forwarded  by  Rachel  :— 
"  Godly  Mr.  Baxter  puzzled  me  sore  at  Naseby 
by  miscalling  us  poor  soldiers  who  had  left  our  farms 
and  honest  trades  to  fight  his  battles,  as  if  we  had 
been  mere  common  hirelings  or  fanatic  praters.  It 
was  a  bewilderment  in  Ireland  to  see  how  angry 
the  poor  natives  were  with  us  for  trying  to  bring 
them  law  and  order.  But  all  the  puzzles,  and  be- 
wilderments, and  subtleties  were  nothing  to  these 
Scottish  covenanted  ministers  and  their  kirk. 

"  They  slander  us  behind  our  backs  to  the  count  ry 
people,  calling  us  '  monsters  of  the  world,'  till  the 
poor  deluded  people  run  away  from  us  as  if  we  were 
savage  black  Indians.  And  when  the  few  who  stay 
behind  find  we  are  sober  Christians  who  eat  not 
babes  but  bread  (and  little  enough,  in  this  poor 
stripped  county,  of  that),  and  pay  for  what  we  eat, 
and  the  women-folk  (who,  I  will  say,  have  quicker 
wits  than  t!^  e  men)  come  back  and  peaceably  brew 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  21 


and  bake  for  us,  they  still  go  on  slandering  us  to 
those  who  have  not  seen  us. 

"  Thev  calls  us  names  to  our  faces  in  their  pul- 
pits,  '  blasphemers,  sectaries,'  and  what  not.  And 
when  we  deal  softly  with  them  and  are  as  dumb  as 
lambs  (when  we  could  chase  them  into  their  holes 
like  lions),  and  let  them  talk  on,  even  that  does  not 
convince  them  that  we  mean  no  one  any  harm 

"  Meantime  they  drag  about  the  late  king's  son, 
poor  young  gentleman,  until  one  cannot  but  pity 
him,  chief  mangnant  as  he  is.  For  they  will  not 
let  any  of  his  old  friends  and  followers  come  near 
him.  The  other  day  he  made  off,  like  a  poor  caged 
bird,  to  get  among  his  true  malignants  near  Perth. 
But  his  friends  had  no  gilded  cage  and  sugared  food 
to  suit  his  taste,  and  after  spending  a  dismal  night 
among  them  in  a  Highland  hut,  he  had  to  creep 
back  to  the  ministers,  and  take  some  more  oaths, 
and  hear  some  more  sermons. 

"  Very  dark  it  is  to  me  the  notions  these  Kirk- 
men  have  concerning  many  things,  especially  kings, 
oaths,  aud  sermons.  Concerning  oaths.  They  seem 
to  think  the  more  a  man  swears  the  more  he  cares 
for  it,  instead  of  the  less  ;  as  if  a  second  oath  made 
a  first  worth  more,  instead  of  showing  that  it  was 
worth  nothing.  It  is  enough  to  make  one  turn 
Quaker — (But  this  I  would  not  have  known  to 
Annis  Nye,  poor  perverse  maid) !  Concerning  ser- 
mons. As  if  they  did  a  man  good,  whether  he  will 
or  no,  like  physic,  if  he  only  takes  enough  of  them  ! 
Concerning  kings.  As  if  dragging  a  poor  young 
gentleman,  like  a  bear  in  a  show,  v  ith  a  crown  on 
19 


2i8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

his  hea  1,  about  wit.i  them,  and  scolding  him  (on 
their  knees),  and  doing  what  they  like  without  ask- 
ing him,  and  never  letting  him  do  what  he  likes,  or 
gee  whom  he  like  s,  was  having  a  king  !  If  they 
have  their  way,  and  drive  Oliver  and  us  into  the 
sea,  and  make  their  covenanted  show-king  into  a 
real  king,  I  wonder  how  he  will  show  them  hia 
gratitude.  Scarcely,  I  think,  by  listening  to  ser- 
mons, such  as  they  like.  Perhaps  by  making  them 
listen  to  sermons  such  as  he  likes,  whether  they  will 
or  no. 

"  But,  thank  God,  Oliver  lives,  though  more  than 
once  this  spring  he  has  been  sick  and  like  to  die  ; 
and  we  are  little  likely  (God  helping  us)  to  be 
chased  into  the  sea  by  enemies  who  already  cannot 
agree  among  themselves.  Meantime,  Dr.  Owen  has 
been  preaching  to  them  with  his  plain  words,  in 
Edinburgh,  and  Oliver  with  his  guns  ;  and  it  is  yet 
to  be  hoped  the  wise  among  them  may  open  their 
ears  and  hear. 

"  Not  that  I  think  it  any  wonder  that  any  poor 
mortal  should  blunder,  and  get  into  a  maze.  A 
poor  soul  that  went  so  far  astray  as  to  misdoubt 
Oliver,  and  to  think  of  bringing  in  the  Fifth  Mon- 
archy by  muskets  and  pikes,  and  could  not  be  got 
right  again  without  being  stuck  on  the  leads  of  Bur- 
ford  Church  to  see  his  comrades  shot,  has  no  great 
reason  to  wonder  at  the  strange  ways  of  others,  be 
they  Kirk  ministers  or  Quakers." 

My  husband  wrote : — 

"  I  have  watched  by  many  death-beds. 

"I  have  seen  many  die  th^se  last  months,  Olive 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    TAE  SEA. 


219 


The  hails,  and  frosts,  and  scanty  food,  and  scanty 
clothing,  have  done  more  despatch  than  the  muskets 
or  great  guns.  I  have  saved  some  lives,  I  trust,  but 
I  have  seen  many  die ;  men  of  all  stamps,  Cove- 
nanted, Uncovenanted,  Resolutioners,  Protesters, 
Presbyterians.  Sectaries;  and  within  all  these  grades 
of  theological  men  (and  outside  them  all)  I  have 
seen  not  a  few,  thank  God,  to  whom  dying  was  not 
death.  Death  brings  back  to  any  soul  which  meets 
it  awake,  the  hunger  and  thirst  which  nothing  but 
God  can  satisfy.  Resolutions,  Covenants,  and  Con- 
fessions may,  like  other  perishable  clothes,  be  need- 
ful enough  on  earth.  But  they  have  to  be  left  en- 
tirely behind,  as  much  as  money,  or  titles,  or  any 
other  corruptible  thing.  If  they  have  been  garments 
to  fit  us  for  earthly  work,  well ;  they  have  had  their 
use,  and  can  be  gently  laid  aside.  If  they  have 
been  veils  to  hide  us  from  God  and  ourselves,  how 
terribly  bare  they  leave  us  !  Alone,  unclothed, 
helpless,  the  only  question  then  is,  can  we  trust 
ourselves  to  the  Father  as  a  babe  to  the  bosom  ot 
its  mother? 

"  Does  the  Christ,  the  Son,  who  has  died  for  us, 
offering  Himself  up,  without  spot,  to  God,  and  lives 
for  ever;  does  He  who,  dying,  committed  His  spirit 
to  the  Father's  hands,  enable  us  to  offer  ourselves 
up,  in  Him, — commit  our  spirits,  helpless,  but  re- 
deemed, into  the  Father's  hands  ?  Then  the  sting 
is  plucked  out.  I  have  seen  it  again  and  again. 
Death  is  abolished.  It  is  not  seen.  It  is  not  tasted. 
Christ  is  seen  instead.  The  eternal  life  no  more 
begins  than  it  ends  at  death.     It  continues.     The 


220 


Off  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 


cramping  chrysalis  shell  is  thrown  off,  and  it  ec« 
pands.     But  it  no  more  begins  then  than  it  ends. 

"  ]  fever  there  is  to  be  a  Confession  of  Faith  which 
is  to  unite  Christendom,  I  think  it  should  be  drawn 
from  dying  lips.  For  these  will  never  freeze  the 
Corfession  into  a  profession.  On  dying  lips  the 
Creed  and  the  Hymn  are  one  ;  for  they  are  uttered 
not  to  man,  but  to  God." 

And  later  Roger  wrote  : — 

"This  campaign  has  aged  the  Captain-General 
sensibly.  He  has  had  ague,  and  has  more  than  once 
been  near  death.  I  think  the  cold  in  godly  men's 
hearts  has  struck  at  his  heart  more  than  the  cold  of 
the  country  at  his  life.  The  other  day  a  gentleman 
who  is  much  near  him,  said  to  me :  lMy  lord  is  not 
aware  that  he  has  grown  an  old  man?  So  do  deeds 
count  for  years.  For,  as  we  know,  he  is  barely  fifty 
years  of  age.  But  as  he  wrote  to  one  not  long 
since,  he  knows  where  the  life  is  that  never  grows 
old.  'To  search  God's  statutes  for  a  rule  of  con- 
science, and  to  seek  grace  from  Christ  to  enable  him 
to  walk  therein, — this  hath  life  in  it,  and  will  come  to 
somewhat.    What  is  a  poor  creature  without  this  ? ' 

"  Some,  indeed,  call  him  a  tyrant  and  usurper ; 
some  very  near  him.  (A  hypocrite  I  think  none  very 
near  him  dare  call  him ;  though  men  are  ever  too 
ready  to  think  that  no  one  can  honestly  see  things 
otherwise  than  they  do.) 

"But  I  know  not  what  they  mean.  He  would 
respect  every  trace  of  the  ancient  laws,  every  hard- 
won  inch  of  the  new  liberties,  and  every  honest 
icruple  of  the  conscience, — if  men  would  have  it  so. 


VN  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  22i 

I  see  not  what  tyranny  he  exercises,  save  to  keep 
men  from  tyrannizing  over  each  other.  But  this 
power  to  tyrannize  over  others  seems,  alas !  what 
too  many  mean  by  liberty. 

"  Sometimes,  Olive,  I  am  ashamed  to  fc.el  myself 
growing  old.  Hope  is  faint  in  me  sometimes  for 
the  country  and  myself.  And  when  hope  is  gone, 
youth  is  gone,  be  our  age  what  it  may.  In  the 
General,  I  think,  this  youth  never  fails,  as  one  who 
knows  him  said :  '  Hope  shone  in  him  like  a  pillar 
of  fire  when  it  had  gone  out  in  all  others.' 

"P.  S. — There  is  talk  of  the  Scottish  army  faring 
southward  with  their  king.  Scarce  credible.  But 
if  true,  we  shall  follow  swift  on  their  trail,  and 
swiftly  be  in  old  England  and  with  thee." 


They  came,  the  two  armies,  as  swiftly  as  Roger 
could  have  dreamed.  The  Scottish  Covenanted-Roy- 
alist force,  14,000  strong,  sweeping  down  through 
the  west,  by  Carlisle,  Lancashire,  Cheshire,  Shrews- 
bury, to  "Worcester;  the  English  Uncovenanted- 
Puritan  army  through  the  east  by  Yorkshire. 

Two  tides  to  meet  in  deadly  shock  for  the  last 
time  at  Worcester.  Two  tides  between  which  the 
difference  became  more  and  more  apparent  as  they 
6wept  on :  the  one  flowing  like  a  summer  torrent 
through  some  dark  valley  in  a  tropical  country,  re- 
ceiving no  tributaries,  welcomed  in  no  quiet  resting- 
places,  becoming  ever  shallower  and  narrower  as  it 
advanced  ;  the  other  swelling  as  it  swept  on  like  a 
thing  that  was  at  home,  and  was  to  last,  gathering 
19* 


422  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  S£A. 

force  here,  gathering  bulk  there,  ever  deepening  jmd 
widening  as  it  went. 

King  Charles  and  his  Scottish  leaders  summoned 
place  after  place,  but  they  met  with  no  response. 
His  trumpeters  went  to  the  gates  of  Shrewsbury  an  J 
proclaimed  the  king,  but  the  gates  remained  closed, 
and  the  unwelcome  tide  had  to  sweep  sullenly  past 
the  walls.  I  scarce  know  how  this  came  to  pass. 
Oliver,  as  I  think,  was  never  popular  throughout 
the  nation;  nothing  of  the  old  unquestioning  loyalty 
which  slumbered  everywhere  (as  time  proved)  in 
the  dumb  heart  of  the  people  was  accorded  to  him. 
Even  those  who  acknowledged  him,  with  some  few 
exceptions,  acknowledged  him  rather  sullenly  as  a 
break-water  against  tyranny,  than  enthusiastically 
as  a  hero  and  a  chief.  It  might  be  dread  of  the 
Ironsides  pursuing;  it  might  be  bitter  memories  of 
the  Star-chamber  and  of  Prince  Rupert's  plunder- 
ings,  not  yet  effaced  by  years  of  liberty  and  security. 
It  might  be,  as  Mr.  Baxter  said,  that  the  Scots  came 
into  England  rather  in  the  manner  of  fugitives  ;  it 
being  hard  for  the  common  people  to  distinguish 
between  an  army  going  before  another  following  it, 
and  an  army  running  away ;  and  into  a  flying  army 
few  men  will  enlist.  But  however  this  may  have 
been,  all  along  that  dreary  progress  scarce  a  note  of 
welcome  cheered  the  Scottish  army  and  their  king, 
until  Worcester  received  them  under  the  shadow  of 
her  Cathedral  (ominously  tenanted  by  the  remains 
of  the  King  of  the  Magna  Charta),  opening  her  gates 
to  give  them  the  shelter  which  so  soon  was  to  he- 
wine  to  thousands  of  them  the  shelter  of  a  grave. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  2*3 

Part  of  the  Scots  army  passed  not  further  than  a 
field's  length  from  Kidderminster;  and  a  gallant 
orderly  company  they  seemed,  heing  governed,  as 
Mr.  Baxter  said,  far  differently  from  Prince  Rupert's 
troopers  ;  "  not  a  soldier  of  them  durst  wrong  any 
man  the  worth  of  a  penny."  Honest,  hard-fighting, 
covenanted  men,  sorely  bewildered,  I  should  think, 
with  the  ways  of  King  and  Kirk,  and  not  a  little 
also  with  the  ways  of  Providence ;  but  true,  never- 
theless, to  the  Covenant  and  to  the  Ten  Command- 
ments. 

Divers  messages  were  sent  from  the  army  (and,  it 
was  believed,  from  the  king  himself)  to  Mr.  Baxter, 
to  request  him  to  come  to  them.  But  Mr.  Baxter 
was  at  that  time  "  under  so  great  an  affliction  of 
sore  eyes,  that  he  was  not  scarce  able  to  see  the 
light,  nor  to  stir  out  of  doors  ;  and  being  (moreover) 
not  much  doubtful  of  the  issue  which  followed,  he 
thought  if  he  had  been  able  it  would  have  been  no 
service  to  the  king — it  being  so  little  that,  on  such 
a  sudden,  he  could  add  to  his  assistance." 

It  was  not  until  some  days  after  this  that  Oliver 
and  his  army  came  up.  I  knew  it  first  from  my 
husband,  who  came  for  an  hour  to  see  me  and  the 
babes  on  the  2nd  of  September,  the  day  before  the 
battle,  brinu,inL!"  erood  tidings  of  Roarer  and  of  Job 
Forster.  I  thought  he  might  have  tarried  with  us 
until  after  the  fight,  when  his  skill  would  be  in  ie- 
quest.  But  he  took  not  that  view  of  his  duty. 
Skirmishes  might  occur  at  any  moment,  he  said,  and 
he  must  be  on  the  spot.  He  had  little  doubt  what 
the  end  would  be;   but   he  deemed  the  struggle 


224  0JV  B0TH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

would  be  hard,  being,  so  to  speak,  a  death-strugglei 
And  so  it  proved. 

On  the  3d  of  September  the  shock  of  battle  came. 
h  was  Oliver's  White  Day,  the  first  anniversary  of 
his  victory  at  Dunbar  (to  be  made  memorable  to 
England  afterwards  by  another  death-struggle, 
which  would  have  no  anniversary  on  earth  to  him, 
but  which,  none  the  less,  I  think,  made  it  the  White 
Day  of  his  hard  and  toilsome  life). 

Soon  after  noon,  stragglers  came  m  and  told  us 
what  was  going  on ;  and  all  through  the  rest  of  the 
day  the  town  was  in  unquiet  expectation,  the  people 
thronging  at  a  moment's  notice  from  loom,  and 
forge,  and  household  work,  into  the  market-place  in 
front  of  Mr.  Baxter's  house,  to  hear  any  report 
brought  by  any  passing  traveller. 

The  first  news  was  that  Oliver  was  making  two 
bridges  of  boats,  across  the  Severn  and  the  Teme ; 
that  the  young  king  and  his  generals  had  seen  him 
from  the  spire  of  Worcester  Cathedral,  and  had 
despatched  troops  to  contest  the  passage  of  the 
river,  and  that  a  hard  struggle  was  going  on  by  its 
banks.  Then,  after  these  tidings  had  been  eagerly 
turned  over  and  over  until  no  more  could  be  made 
of  them,  the  townsmen  returned  to  their  homes. 
For  some  hours  there  was  a  cessation  of  tidings, 
and  the  whole  town  seemed  unusually  still.  The 
ordinary  interests  were  suspended,  and  the  minds  of 
men  were  not  sufficiently  united  for  any  general  as- 
sembling together.  There  was  no  gathering  for 
prayer  in  the  church.  Mr.  Baxter  wa>i  sitting  apart 
in  his  house,  unable  to  bear  the  light ;  certainly  not 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  225 

praying  for  Oliver  to  win,  yet,  I  think,  scarce  wish- 
ing very  earnestly  for  the  complete  success  of  the 
Scots. 

Aunt  Dorothy,  on  the  first  rumour  of  the  fight, 
had  rigidly  shut  herself  up  in  her  chamber  for  a  day 
of  solitary  fasting.  But  if  we  had  been  together, 
we  should  each  have  been  none  the  less  solitary ; 
perhaps  more,  shut  out  from  each  other  by  the  door 
of  our  lips.  The  lives  dearest  to  us  both  on  earth 
were  at  stake.  Of  these  we  could  neither  of  us 
have  spoken.  The  things  dearest  to  each  of  us  were 
at  stake.  But  of  these  we  thought  not  alike,  and 
would  not  have  spoken.  It  was  almost  a  boon  for 
me  that  Annis  Nye  had  departed,  so  that  the  babes 
were  thrown  entirely  on  my  care.  It  kept  me  from 
straining  my  hearing  with  that  vain  effort  to  catch 
the  terrible  sounds  which  I  knew  were  to  be  heard 
not  far  off.  It  kept  me  from  straining  my  heart 
with  that  vain  effort  to  catch  some  intimation  of 
what  might  be  the  will  of  God,  and  from  distract- 
ing self-questioning  whether  I  had  done  as  much  as 
I  could,  by  praying,  to  help  those  who  wrere  cer- 
tainly doing  as  much  as  they  could  for  us,  by  fight- 
ing. And  instead,  it  left  me  only  leisure  to  lift  up 
my  soul  from  time  to  time  in  one  brief  simple  reit- 
eration :  "  Father,  Thou  seest,  Thou  carest ;  I  com 
mit  them  to  Thee." 

Towards  evening  further  tidings  came,  putting 
an  end  to  our  suspense  in  one  direction.  After  hours 
of  stiff  fighting,  from  hedge  to  hedge,  the  Scots  army 
had  been  driven  into  Worcester,  out  of  Worcester, 
out  of  reach  of  Worcester. 


226  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

The  issue  of  the  day  as  to  victory  was  no  longei 
doubtful.  But  its  issue  as  to  the  lives  so  precioua 
to  us  remained  to  us  unknown. 

So  the  slow  hours  of  the  afternoon  wore  on,  until 
the  declining  autumn  sun  threw  the  shadow  of  the 
opposite  houses  over  the  room,  and  with  the  babe 
on  my  knee,  and  Maidie  singing  to  herself  low  lulla- 
bies as  she  dressed  and  undressed  her  wooden  baby 
at  my  feet,  my  thoughts  went  back  to  the  October 
Sunday  nine  years  before  (1642),  when  the  stillness 
of  the  land  was  terribly  broken  by  the  first  battle 
of  the  Civil  War,  the  fight  of  Edgehill. 

How  simple  it  all  seemed  to  me  then ;  how  com- 
plex now.  Then  there  seemed  visibly  two  causes, 
two  ends,  two  ways,  two  armies,  the  choice  being 
plainly  that  between  wrong  and  right.  Now  so 
perplexed  and  interlaced  were  convictions,  parties, 
leaders,  followers,  that  it  seemed  as  if  to  our  eyes 
the  causes  and  armies  were  legion  ;  and  to  none  but 
the  Divine  eyes,  which  see,  through  all  temporary 
party  differences,  the  eternal  moral  differences,  could 
the  divisions  of  the  hosts  be  clear. 

Partly  no  doubt  this  perplexity  was  simply  the 
consequence  of  the  armies  having  encountered ;  no 
longer  couched  expectant  opposite  each  other  on 
their  several  opposite  heights,  but  grappling  in 
deadly  struggle  on  the  plains  between. 

Partly,  perhaps,  also  because  the  eternal  mora] 
differences  on  which  Ave  believed  the  final  judgment 
must  be  based,  had  become  more  the  basis  of  ours. 

And  Maidie  and  the  babe,  I  thought,  poor  dar- 
lin<rs,  had  all  tlvis  yet  to  learn!     How  could  F  help 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  2«^ 

tiifrj^  !so  thai  they  might  have  less  than  I  to  un 
learn  ? 

How !  except  by  engraving  deep  on  their  heart? 
Aunt  Gretel's  trust  in  God  "  Put  the  darkness 
anywhere  but  there,  sweetheart ;  anywhere  but  in 
Him!"  By  slowly  dyeing  their  hearts  in  grain,  as 
Mr.  Baxter  would  have  wished,  in  the  Apostles' 
Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten  Command 
ments,  so  that  any  after  surface-colouring,  if  it  mod- 
ified these  heavenly  tints,  should  never  be  able  to 
efface  them. 

There  are  qualities  in  some  waters,  it  is  said,  as  at 
Kidderminster,  which  tend  to  fix  dyes,  and  give 
value  to  the  fabrics  of  the  places  where  they  flow. 

Has  not  God  given  a  mother's  love  this  fixing 
power  for  all  truths  that  come  to  a  child's  heart 
steeped  in  its  living  waters  ? 

So  far,  therefore,  Maidie  and  the  babe  might  have 
something  through  my  lessons,  which  the  combined 
teaching  of  Aunt  Gretel  and  Aunt  Dorothy,  each  in 
herself  so  much  better  than  I,  could  not  quite  pos- 
sess for  Roger's  childhood  and  mine. 

The  thought  made  me  glad  and  strong ;  and  I 
was  still  going  in  the  strength  of  it,  when  Job  Foi- 
Bter  appeared  at  the  door. 

I  ran  out  and  met  him  on  the  threshold. 

He  brought  good  news  of  my  husband  and  Roger. 
The  fi<rht  was  over.  Leonard  was  attending  to  the 
wounded.  Roger  was  still  engaged  in  the  pursuit. 
But  the  Scots  were  scattered  hither  and  thither 
among  the  woods  and  harvest-fields.  The  reapers 
and  labourers  had  taken  up  the  pursuit,  and  before 


1 28  ON  BOTH  S1D.VS   OF  THI    SEA. 

night-fall,  probably,  not  a  stray  party  would  hoi  3 
together  strong  enough  to  offer  ten  minutes'  resist 
ance. 

"And  His  Majesty?"  said  a  grim  voice  behind  us. 

"The  King  of  Scots  is  in  hiding,  Mistress  Doro- 
thy," said  Job  controversially,  but  rery  respectfully. 
"  Xo  one  knows  the  road  he  has  taken." 

"  Then  there  is  something  to  pray  foi  yet,"  said 
she.  "  That  this  blood-stained  land  may  imbrue  her 
hands  no  deeper  in  the  blood  of  her  kings." 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,"  I  ventured  to  say,  "  you  will 
give  thanks  as  well  as  pray  ?  Leonard  and  Roger 
are  safe." 

"  I  know,"  said  she,  "  it  is  written,  '  In  everything 
give  thanks.'  " 

And  without  further  concession  she  turned  back 
to  her  chamber.  But  on  her  way  she  halted,  and 
said,  turning  to  me, — 

"  Olive,  see  that  Job  is  fed  and  lodged.  We  must 
make  a  difference.  A  heretic  is  one  thing,  and  a 
rebel  another." 

Without  giving  Job  the  privilege  of  reply,  she 
lemounted  the  stairs. 

I  asked  him  into  the  kitchen.  But  Job  was  some- 
what hard  to  persuade. 

"It  is  hard,  Mistress  Olive,"  said  he,  "to  havo 
bread  and  shelter  flung  at  you  like  a  dog,  without  a 
chance  to  explain.  When  Mistress  Dorothy  herself 
was  one  of  the  keenest  to  set  us  against  the  oppres- 
sors !  And  when,  but  for  Oliver,  though  I  say  it, 
she  herself  might  have  been  in  Newgate  among  th« 
Quakers  years  ago." 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  229 

Yet  without  Maidie  I  doubt  whether  I  should 
have  prevailed.  She,  poor  lamb,  seeing  nothing  in 
Job  but  a  bit  of  home,  and  a  never-failing  store- 
house of  kindnesses,  had  already  enthroned  herself 
in  his  arms,  undaunted  by  breast-plate  or  sword, 
and  with  hei  arms  clinging  around  him  constrained 
him  to  come  into  the  kitchen,  if  it  were  only  to  set 
her  down. 

Once  there,  tc  make  him  stay  was  easier.  For  he 
was  wounded  in  the  left  shoulder,  so  that  he  could 
not  hold  the  horse's  reins,  and  had  little  strength  to 
walk  further.  But  for  that,  indeed,  he  would  not 
have  been  Roger's  messenger.  The  pallor  of  his 
countenance,  when  his  helmet  was  unlaced,  startled 
me ;  yet,  after  refreshing  him  with  ale  and  meat,  it 
was  with  no  little  difficulty  that  I  persuaded  him  to 
let  me  dress  and  bandage  his  wound. 

After  that  he  seemed  easier,  and  his  first  inquiries 
were  for  Annis  Nye,  concerning  whom  we  had  had 
no  tidings  for  some  weeks.  "  When  I  am  set  up  a 
bit,  mistress,"  said  he,  "  I  must  see  after  that  poor 
maid  the  first  thing,  for  she  is  a  godly  maid,  al- 
though a  Quakeress.  And  I  misdoubt  whether  she 
be  not  in  jail.  It's  beyond  the  wisest  of  us  to  keep 
a  Quaker  safe  anywhere.  Only,"  he  added,  "  I  must 
be  set  up  a  bit  first.  I  don't  feel  sure,  flesh  and 
blood  could  stand  her  discourse  on  the  wickedness 
of  war,  until  the  pain's  a  bit  less  sharp.  She's  so  ter- 
rible quiet,  Mistress  Olive,  and  so  shut  up  against 


reason." 


At  night  we  were  rouse  \  by  the  clattering  of 
flying  horsemen  through  the  streets,  Kidderminster 
20 


*3C 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 


being  b'lt  eleven  miles  from  Worcester.  Then  caine 
a  party  of  thirty  of  the  Parliament  troopers  and 
took  possession  of  the  market-place.  Then  hundreds 
more  of  the  flying  Royalists,  who  "  not  knowing  in 
the  dark  how  few  they  were  that  charged  them," 
when  the  Parliament  troopers  cried  "  stand,"  either 
hasted  away,  or  cried  quarter.  And  so,  as  Mr.  Bax- 
ter said,  "  as  many  were  taken  there,  as  so  few  men 
could  lay  hold  on ;  and  until  midnight  the  bullets 
flying  towards  my  doors  and  windows,  and  the  sor- 
rowful fugitives  hasting  for  their  lives,  did  tell  me 
the  calamitousness  of  war." 

So  ended  the  last  battle  of  the  Civil  War. 

Maidie,  terrified,  clung  to  me  and  would  not  leave 
my  arms.  Aunt  Dorothy  remained  in  her  cham- 
ber ;  the  little  maid  Sarah  took  shelter  in  mine. 
Only  the  babe  and  Job  Forster  were  unmoved  by 
the  noise.  The  babe  slept  peacefully  on,  the  storm 
of  war  in  the  streets  being  no  more  to  her  on  her 
mother's  knee,  than  an  earthquake  to  the  planet 
Jupiter's  satellites  ;  and  Job  being  wearied  out  with 
pain  and  fatigue,  and  lulled  by  the  absence  of  the 
duty  of  soldierly  vigilance,  which  had  kept  him  on 
the  stretch  so  long. 

The  next  day  Roger  passed  through  the  town, 
pausing  a  minute  at  the  door  to  see  me  and  the 
babes.  He  told  us  my  husband  would  come  in  a 
few  days  to  take  us  home.  He  told  us  also  how 
complete  the  ruin  of  the  enemy  was. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  as  he  remounted  at  the  door, 
"  we  shall  see  what  peace  and  Oliver  can  makf  ni 
England." 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  2p 

And  there  was  a  ring  of  hope  in  his  voice,  as  he 
rode  away,  I  had  not  heard  in  it  for  many  a  day. 

England  he  thought  was  to  be  made  such  a  king- 
dom of  righteousness  and  peace,  that  all  the  nations 
far  and  wide  must  see  and  acknowledge  it.  And 
amongst  them,  I  felt  sure  he  dreamed  also  of  one 
fair  loyal  maiden,  whose  verdict  I  knew  was  worth 
more  to  him  than  he  dared  to  own  to  himself. 

But  Job  watching  him  up  the  street,  turned  back 
to  us  shaking:  his  head. 

"  It  remains  to  be  seen,  on  the  other  hand,  what 
England  will  do  with  peace  and  Oliver  !"  he  said. 
"  Sometimes  my  heart  misgives  me  that  we  may 
have  longer  to  wait  for  the  Fifth  Monarchy  than 
Master  Roger  or  most  of  us  dream.  There  do  seem 
so  many  things  to  be  set  right  first.  The  Kirk 
ministers  and  the  Quakers  do  puzzle  a  plain  Cor- 
nishman  sore  !" 

Roger  had  not  been  gone  more  than  a  few  seconds, 
and  we  had  not  yet  ceased  looking  after  him,  when 
he  came  galloping  back  to  the  door. 

Bending  low  from  his  saddle  as  I  went  up  to  him, 
"  Olive,"  he  said,  "  I  saw  some  constables  in  a  vil- 
lage near  Worcester  taking  Annis  Nye  to  prison. 
I  could  have  rescued  her,  but  she  refused  my  aid, 
saying  that  I  was  a  man  of  war,  and  she  chose 
rather  to  be  set  in  gaol  by  a  man  of  peace  than  to 
have  her  bonds  broken  by  the  carnal  sword.  On 
second  thoughts,  I  concluded  that  at  present  she 
might  be  safer  in  gaol,  while  men's  minds  aie  so 
disturbed.     But  I  thought  it  best  to  let  thee  know.'1 

And  he  was  away  once  more. 


*32  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

This  tidings  cost  Job  and  me  many  heavy  nil* 
Bings.  At  length  he  resolved  on  losing  no  time  (his 
wound  having  proved  less  severe  than  we  feared) ; 
but  to  set  out  on  the  morrow  to  rescixe  Annis,  and 
bring  her  back,  if  possible  to  return  with  us  to 
London. 

Accordingly  early  on  the  morrow  he  went  forth. 

In  the  evening,  to  my  relief,  and  to  Maidie's  joy, 
he  returned,  with  Annis,  looking  very  pale  and 
worn  ;  but  with  her  face  as  serene  and  her  eyes  as 
steady  and  clear  as  ever. 

I  embraced  her  on  the  threshold.  Beyond  that 
she  would  not  step. 

"  Dorothy  Drayton  would  have  none  of  me,"  said 
she.  "  We  are  to  give  our  coat  to  him  who  takes 
away  our  cloak.  But  it  never  says  we  are  to  take 
a  cloak  from  him  that  denied  us  his  coat.  I  may 
not  enter  this  house." 

"  But  it  is  night-fall,"  said  I.  "  Whither  would 
you  turn  ?" 

"  It  is  not  the  first  night-fall  I  have  been  content 
with  such  lodging  as  the  fowls  of  the  air,"  said  she, 
and  quietly  went  her  way. 

I  would  have  followed  her ;  but  Job  Forster  re- 
strained me. 

"  Let  her  be,  Mistress  Olive !"  he  whispered 
"  tShe  is  as  hard  to  catch  as  a  wild  colt,  and  fai 
harder  to  hold.  There  be  reins  to  turn  colts,  and 
there  be  corn  to  coax  them  ;  but  there  be  no  reins 
to  hold  and  no  lure  to  coax  a  Quaker.  Their  waya 
are  wonderful.  Let  her  be  :  maybe  she'll  come  back 
of  herself      and,  if  n  !»t,  neither  love  nor  fear  will 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


233 


bring  her.     It  is  not  to  be  told,  Mistress  Olive,"  he 
added,  as  we  reluctantly  turned  back  into  the  kitch- 
en, "  what  I've  borne  from  that  poor  maid  this  day. 
I  had  some  work  to  get  her  oft'  on  bail,  for  she  had 
angered  the  justices  and  the  constables  grievously, 
and  I  had  to  contrive  ;  for  the  Quakers  will  not  let 
any  one  go  bail  for  them.     They're  as  lofty  as  the 
apostle  Paul  with  his   Rorian   rights,  and  would 
rather  stay  in  prison  than  be   set  free  as  guilty. 
When  I  came  to  the  gaol  and  gave  her  joy  that  I 
had  come  to  set  her  free,  she  smiled  at  me  as  inno- 
oent  as  a  babe,  as  meek  (seemingly)  as  one  of  Fox's 
martyrs,  and  yet  bold  as  a  lion,  and  said  :   '  Thee 
cannot  set  me  free,  Job  Forster.     What  is  the  bond- 
age of  bars  and  stocks  to  such  bondage  as  thine  ?' 
And  then  she  railed,  that  is,  railed  in  her  way,  as 
soft  as  if  she  were  saying  the  civilest  things — at 
Oliver  and  the  Ironsides,  and  the  war,  and  all  war, 
until  it  was  a  harder  trial  of  patience  to  stand  quiet 
before  her  than  before  any  pounding  of  great  guns. 
I  could  only  get  her  off  at  last  by  getting  her  put 
in  my  charge,  as  if  I  had  been  a  constable,  to  bring 
home  to  her  mistress  ;  and  all  the  way  back,  from 
time  to  time  she  discoursed  on  the  wickedness  of 
soldiering, — mixing  up  Bible  texts  in  a  way  to  make 
a  man  mazed,  and  at  times  'most  think  he  might  as 
well  have  been  at  home  by  the  forge  at  Netherby, 
as  racing:  over  the  world  fighting;  the  Lord's  bat- 
ties.     Although  I  knew,  of  course,  Mistress  Olive, 
that  was  only  a  temptation.     At  last  I  gave  her  my 
mind  plain.     'Mistress  Annis,'  I  said,  'of  all  the 
fighting  men  of  the  time,  it's  my  belief  there's  n  me 
20* 


*34 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


who  have  more  fig1 1  in  them  than  you  and  youi 
friends.     It's  very  well  to  say  you  won't  fight,  when 
you  rouse  every  drop  of  fighting  blood  there  is  in 
other  people  by  your  words.     For  Scripture  saith 
there  be  words  which  are  fiercer  weapons  of   war 
than  any  swords.     You  talk  a  deal  of  keeping  to 
the  spirit,  and  not  to  the  letter ;   and  you  talk  ot 
giving  the  left  cheek  to  him  that  smites  the  right. 
But  it's  my  belief,  the  spirit  of  those  words  is,  you 
6hall  not  provoke  your  enemies ;   and  it's  my  belief 
that  it's  dead  against  the  spirit  when,  by  keeping 
to  the  letter  and  turning  the  left  cheek,  you  arc 
just  doing  the  provokingest  thing  you  can.     It's 
not  the  virtues  of  war,  it  seems  to  me,  you  are  lack- 
ing in,'  I  said,  '  but  the  virtues  of  peace.     You  and 
yours,  from  first  to  last,  have  had  courage  enough 
to  lead  a  forlorn  hopo.     The  thing  you  want  most, 
to  my  seeming,  is  meekness.     I  would  give  some- 
what for  thee  and  my  mistress  to  meet.     She  is  real 
meek,  and,  withal,  brave  as  a  lion,  if  need  be  ;  and 
she  would  treat  thee  like  a  child,  as  thou  art,  instead 
of  like  a  martyr — which  would,  belike,  do  thee  more 
good.     Yet  she  would  give  thee  a  hearty  welcome, 
with  all  thy  wilfulness.'     And,  after  that,  she  was 
quiet  a  good  bit.     And  then  she  said,  quite  simple 
and  natural :   '  Job  Forster,  I  am  but  a  child  ;  and 
one  day,  belike,  I  may  have  a  call  to  see  thy  wife. 
I  feel  as  if  she  would  be  like  a  mother.     From  all 
thou  sayest,  she  must  be  a  woman  of  a  tender  spirit 
and  an  understanding  heart.'  " 

In  the  morning  Aunt  Dorothy  came  ilowt:  from 
her  solitary  chamber.     She  looked  paie,  but  relieved 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE   SEA. 


235 


in  spirit.  "Olive,"  said  she,  "  I  heard  that  poof 
bewi.dered  maid  come  to  the  house  last  night,  and 
go  away ;  and  I  do  not  mean  to  pass  through  such 
another  night  as  these  two  she  has  cost  me.  I  have 
wrestled  the  thing  out  in  my  heart.  On  the  one 
side,  there  is  the  heretic  the  Apostle  John  spake  of 
in  the  epistle.  But  I  consider  that  heretic  was  a 
tempter,  and  a  man.  Now  Annis,  poor  soul,  is 
tempted,  and  a  maid  ;  which  makes  a  difference,  to 
begin  with.  Then,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  the 
man  who  fell  among  thieves.  I  consider  Annis  Nye 
has  fallen  anions  thieves  :  and  I  don't  think  one  of 
Mr.  Baxter's  people,  in  this  year  of  our  Lord  six- 
teen hundred  and  fifty-one,  ought  to  be  outdone  by 
an  ignorant  Samaritan,  who  lived  in  no  year  of 
our  Lord  at  all." 

"  Then,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  I  suggested,  "  there  were 
the  Samaritans  all  through  the  Gospels,  and  our 
Lord's  pitiful  ways  with  them  altogether.  I  think 
the  Samaritans  must  have  been  at  least  as  wrong 
as  the  Quakers." 

"  Maybe,  my  dear;  I  am  not  so  well  informed  as 
I  should  wish  as  to  the  theology  of  the  Samaritans. 
I  should  think  it  was  a  great  medley.  But  our 
Saviour  knew  all  things,  and  could  do  what  lie 
pleased." 

"  And  may  not  we  do  what  pleased  Hiin  ?'' 

"  Olive,"  said  Aunt  Dorothy,  turning  on  me,  "  I 
am  not  going  to  have  Scripture  quoted  against  me 
by  one  I  taught  to  read  it.  I  never  did  call  down 
fire  from  heaven  on  any  one,  nor  wished  to  do  so, 
and  I  am  not  to  be  enticed  by  any  smooth  by  pathi 


236  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

into  such  tolerations  as  yours  and  your  husband's, 
You  need  not  think  it.  But,  with  regard  to  Annia 
Nye,  my  conscience  is  satisfied  ;  and  you  may  bring 
her  at  once  to  the  house.  Besides,"  she  added,  "  I 
do  not  mean  to  let  any  of  you  depart  without  bear- 
ing my  testimony." 

Whereon  Job  Forster  departed  in  search  of 
Annis  Nye  ;  whom,  with  some  difficulty,  he  per- 
suaded to  place  herself  again  within  range  of  Aunt 
Dorothy's  hospitalities  and  admonitions. 

The  day  passed  in  much  stillness.  Aunt  Dorothy 
herself  moved  heavily,  like  a  thunder-cloud  with 
lightnings  in  it;  and  the  weight  of  her  impending 
"  testimony  "  made  the  air  heavy. 

Towards  evening  my  husband  came,  and  all 
thunder-clouds  naturally  grew  much  lighter  to  me. 

He  brought  more  tidings  of  the  campaign  in  Scot- 
land and  the  Battle  of  Worcester.  He  believed  it 
would  be  the  last  of  the  war.  Aunt  Dorothy 
loaded  us  with  every  kind  of  bodily  refreshment  and 
comfort.  But  she  kept  herself  apart  from  the  con- 
versation, and  never  vouchsafed  to  ask  one  question, 
save  concerning  the  STfety  of  the  king,  of  whom  no 
news  had  been  heard.  It  was  decided  we  were  to 
leave  on  the  morrow ;  and  often  I  saw  her  eyes 
moisten  tenderly  as  she  glanced  at  Maidie,  who,  in 
lier  sweet  trusted  way,  kept  drawing  her  amongst 
us  by  claiming  her  sympathy  with  her  joy  in  tho 
little  treasures  her  father  had  brought  her. 

In  the  night,  before  the  dawn  of  the  next  morn- 
ing, Aunt  Dorothy  and  her  little  maid  were  astir, 
and    wonderful  cookings   and  bakings    must  have 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


*37 


gone  forward.  For  when  we  came  clown  to  break- 
fast, a  huge  basket  stood  laden  with  provisions  for 
the  way,  substantial  and  dainty,  with  special  refer- 
ence to  Maidie's  tastes ;  little  tender  preparations 
which  often  brought  tears  to  my  eyes  on  the  jour- 
ney, as  I  found  them  out  one  by  one,  and  thought  of 
the  self-repressed  rigour  of  the  dear  old  rock  from 
which  those  springs  of  kindness  flowed. 

Yet  all  the  while  we  were  at  breakfast  together 
at  the  great  table  in  the  kitchen,  every  slightest 
want  watched  and  anticipated  by  Aunt  Dorothy,  I 
felt  as  if  she  were  looking  on  every  morsel  as  a  coal 
of  fire  heaped  on  our  heads  ;  while  the  weight  of 
the  impending  testimony  hung  over  us. 

At  length  it  came. 

"  Nephew  and  niece,  Leonard  and  Olive  Antony," 
said  she,  as  we  were  about  to  rise ;  "  and  thou, 
Annis  Nye  and  Job  Forster,  I  have  somewhat  to 
say  to  you.'" 

And  then  she  testified  against  us  all,  and  also 
against  Oliver  Cromwell,  the  army,  and  the  coun- 
try ;  comparing  us  to  the  people  who  built  Babel 
to  make  themselves  a  name,  to  Jeroboam  who 
made  priests  of  the  lowest  of  the  people,  to  Absa- 
lom, to  Jezebel,  to  the  evil  angels  who  speak  evil  of 
dignities,  and  to  the  Laodiceans,  in  a  way  which 
made  the  blood  rush  to  my  face  on  behalf  of  my 
husband,  Finally,  turning  to  Annis  Nye,  she 
launched  on  her  a  separate  denunciation  ;  beginning 
with  the  devil  who  clothed  himself  as  an  angel  of 
light,  and  ending  with  the  Anabaptists  of  Minister, 
and  the  Jesuits,  who,  Mr.  Baxter  believed,  had 
emissaries  among  the  Quakers. 


*38  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

I  knew  that  the  more  tenderness  Aunt  Dorothy 
felt  at  heart  for  offenders,  the  more  severe  were  her 
denunciations  of  their  offences.  But  Annis  could 
not  he  expected  to  be  aware  of  this,  and  I  trembled 
to  see  how  she  would  bear  it,  lest  it  should  drive 
her  once  more  from  us  into  the  world,  so  hard  on 
Quakers.  The  calm  on  her  countenance,  hoAvever, 
was  not  even  ruffled.  She  kept  her  eyes,  all  the 
time,  fully  opened,  fixed  with  an  expression,  not  of 
defiance,  but  of  wonder  and  compassion,  on  Aunt 
Dorothy,  until  Aunt  Dorothy  herself  at  length 
paused,  apparently  checked  by  the  strength  of  her 
own  language,  held  out  her  hand  to  Annis  and 
added, — 

"  Now  I  have  said  what  was  on  my  mind.  I  did 
not  mean  to  anger  thee ;  but  less,  in  conscience,  I 
dared  not  say." 

Annis  took  the  hand  offered  to  her  with  a  tender 
compassion,  as  she  might  that  of  an  aged  sick 
person. 

"  Why  should  I  be  angered,  friend  ?"  said  she  in 
her  softest  voice.  "  Can  thy  words  touch  the 
truth  ?  *It  was  there  when  they  began ;  and  it  is 
there  when  they  end.  And  one  day  we  shall  all 
have  to  see  it;  whatever  it  is,  wherever  we  be, 
thee,  and  Olive  Antony  and  her  husband,  and  all." 

Aunt  Dorothy  had  no  further  words  to  lavish  on 
obduracy  so  hopeless.  She  only  struck  her  palms 
together,  shook  her  head  slowly,  and  looked  up  in 
speechless  dismay. 

Job  muttered  under  his  I  reath,  as  he  rose  to  sad- 
dle the  horses, — 


ON  BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  239 

"  Poor  souls  !  poor  dear  souls  !  They  have  got 
somewhat  yet  to  learn.  They  have  got  to  learn 
the  lesson  Oliver  taught  us  on  old  Burford  steeple  !" 

But  my  husband  only  replied, — 

"  Mistress  Dorothy,  you  have  been  the  truest  of 
friends  to  me  and  mine.  We  cannot  agree  on  all 
things,  although  I  shall  always  honour  you  in  my 
heart  more  than  nine-tenths  of  the  people  I  do 
agree  with.  But  there  is  one  admonition  of  Oliver 
Cromwell's  which  I  should  like  to  have  engraved 
deep  on  the  hearts  of  us  all.  It  is  one  which  he 
addressed  last  year,  in  a  letter,  to  the  General  As- 
sembly of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland.  '  I  beseech  you,' 
he  wrote,  'in  the  bowels  of  Christ,  think  it  j-wibli 
you  may  be  mistaken* " 


Chapter  VII. 


olive's    recollections 


HE  last  battle  of  the  Civil  Wars  was 
fought.  Or  rather  the  battle-field  was 
changed,  and  the  long  contest  of  the 
Commonwealth  began,  between  Oliver 
governing  and  all  the  rest  of  parties  and  men  who 
wished  England  otherwise  governed,  who  wished 
it  ungoverned,  or  who  wished  to  govern  it  them- 
selves. 

The  Royalists,  Prelatical  or  Presbyterian,  neces- 
sarily against  him,  the  classical  Republicans,  the 
Anabaptist  levellers,  and,  in  their  passive  way,  the 
Quakers.  Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  all  parties,  as 
parties,  were  against  him.  The  wonder  was,  that 
the  arm  which  kept  them  all  at  bay  should  be  strong 
enough  at  the  same  time  to  keep  the  world  at  bay, 
for  England  ;  and  to  keep  England  so  ordered,  that 
many  of  those  who  hated  the  Protector's  rule  con- 
fessed that  the  times — "  by  God's  merciful  sweeten* 
mg  (said  they)  of  bitter  waters  " — had  never  been 
bo  prosperous  as  under  it. 

I  confess  that  the  change  fr<  m  Kidderminster  to 
(210) 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE    SEA.  2.fl 

our  home  in  London  was  in  some  measure  :i  relief. 
It  was  like  coming  from  a  walled  garden  (admirably 
kept,  indeed,  and  watered)  into  the  open  fields.  It 
liad  not  been  my  wont  to  live  in  a  place  so  pervaded 
bv  one  man  as  Kidderminster,  or  at  least  what  I 
saw  of  it,  was  at  that  time  by  Mr.  Baxter.  He  was 
so  very  active  and  self-denying  and  good,  that  do 
what  I  would  whilst  there,  I  could  never  get  over 
tne  feeling  of  being,  in  some  way,  a  transgressor  if 
I  happened  to  differ  from  him.  His  writings  and 
sermons  were  certainly  mainly  directed  against  the 
great  permanent  evils  of  ungodliness  and  unright- 
eousness. But  he  wrote  so  many  controversial 
books  on  every  kind  of  ecclesiastical  topic,  and 
was  so  convinced  that  they  were  all  convincing 
to  all  sound  minds,  that  it  was  difficult,  while  in 
the  Kidderminster  world,  to  regard  oneself,  if  not 
convinced,  as  having  anythiug  but  a  very  sound 
mind. 

So  that  it  did  feel  like  getting  into  a  large  room, 
to  meet  and  converse  again  with  people  who  did 
not  think  Mr.  Baxter's  judgment,  moderate  and 
wise  as  it  doubtless  was,  the  one  final  standard  of 
truth  in  the  universe.  Not,  certainly,  that  London 
at  that  time  was  a  world  free  from  debate  and  con- 
troversy of  the  fiercest  kind.  A  Commonwealth  in 
which,  during  the  eleven  years  of  its  existence, 
thirty  thousand  controversial  pamphlets  of  the 
fiercest  and  most  contradictory  kind  were  batter- 
ing each  other,  each  regarded  by  its  author  and 
his  particular  friends  as  absolutely  convincing  t<7 
all  sound  minds,  was  not  likely  to  be  that. 
21 


242  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

Fiom  our  home,  however,  such  debates  wer* 
mostly  absent.  My  father  fed  from  controversy 
to  the  Bible,  and  to  the  Society  for  the  promotion 
of  the  new  experimental  philosophy,  which  met  at 
Gresham  College ;  the  revelation  of  God  in  His 
Word  and  in  His  world.  Aunt  Gretel  had  the 
happy  exemption  of  a  foreigner  from  our  English 
debates,  political  and  ecclesiastical,  and  tranquil- 
ized  herself  at  all  times  by  her  knitting,  her  hymns, 
and  the  making  of  possets  acceptable  to  sick  people 
of  all  persuasions.  And  my  husband  had  what  he 
regarded  as  the  advantage  of  differing  on  some 
theological  questions  from  the  good  men  with  whom 
he  acted  in  religious  work  (he  having  a  leaning 
rather  to  Dr.  Thomas  Goodwin,  in  his  "  Redemp- 
tion Redeemed,"  than  to  Dr.  Owen,  or  even  to  Mr. 
Baxter) ;  so  that  he  had  to  avoid  the  intermediate 
debatable  grounds,  and  keep  to  those  highest  heights 
of  adoration  where  Christianity  is  incarnate  in  Christ, 
or  to  those  lowly  duties  where  it  is  embodied  in 
kindnesses.  So  much  of  his  time,  moreover,  was 
spent  in  what  the  Protector  vainly  endeavoured  to 
persuade  his  Parliaments  to  keep  to,  namely,  the 
"work  of  healing  and  settling"  that  he  had  little 
left  for  the  "  definitions "  of  all  things  in  Church 
and  State,  into  which  those  unhappy  Parliament  a 
were  so  continually,  to  the  Protector's  vexation, 
straying. 

Then  there  were  the  children,  Maidie  and  Dolly, 
and  the  two  boys  who  came  after  them,  renewing 
one  by  one,  in  their  happy  infancy,  the  golden  age; 
the  joyous  little  ones  around  whom  it  was  mant 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


*41 


festly  our  duty  to  gither  as  many  relics  of  Eden, 
and  foretastes  of  the  thousand  years  of  peace,  as 
were  to  be  had  in  a  world  where  thirty  thousand 
fiery  pamphlets  were  flying  about. 

The  spirit  of  Annis  Nye,  meantime,  abode,  listen- 
ing and  looking  heavenward,  on  lofty  heights  far 
above  all  debate,  though  ready  for  any  lowly  ser- 
vice. And  in  a  house  in  our  garden,  on  the  river 
bank,  enlarged  for  his  accommodation,  lived  our 
High  Church  friend,  Dr.  Rich,  with  his  eleven  chil- 
dren, his  spirit  also  loftily  looking  down  on  the 
strifes  of  the  present,  not  from  the  heights  of  im- 
mediate inspiration,  but  from  those  of  history ; 
while  his  eleven  children,  lately  orphaned  of  their 
mother,  made  no  small  portion  of  my  world,  with 
its  many  interests  and  cares. 

So  that,  in  spite  of  the  wide  divergences  of  judg- 
ment in  our  household  concerning  matters  political 
and  ecclesiastical  (perhaps  rather  in  consequence  of 
the  mutual  self-restraint  they  rendered  necessary), 
our  home  came  to  be  looked  on  by  many  as  a  kind 
of  haven  where  people  might  meet  face  to  face  on 
the  common  ground  of  humanity  and  Christianity. 

The  mere  meeting  face  to  face  on  common  ground, 
if  it  be  pure  and  high,  or  helpful  and  lowly,  the 
mere  taking  and  giving  the  cups  of  cold  water  in 
the  Master's  name,  the  mere  looking  into  each  others' 
faces  and  grasping  each  others'  hauds  as  kindred, 
lias  in  itself,  I  think,  something  almost  sacramental. 
Mow  much,  indeed,  of  the  depth  and  sacredness  of 
the  Highest  Sacrament  consists  in  such  communion 
union  through  what  we  are  in  Him  instead  of  aggh> 


*44  0N  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA. 

■iteration  through  what  we  think ;  union  in  Iliin 
who  is  to  us  all  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  I  jfo,  hut 
of  whom  the  best  we  can  think  is  so  dim,  ai.d  poor, 
and  low. 

In  those  years  we  learned  to  know  and  revere 
many  whose  memories  (now  that  so  many  of  them 
are  gone,  and  that  we  so  soon  must  be  going), 
shining  from  the  past  we  shared  with  them,  throw 
a  sacred  yet  familiar  radiance  on  the  future  we  hope 
to  share. 

Dr.  Owen,  coming  now  and  then  from  his  post  as 
Vice-chancellor  of  Oxford  to  preach  before  the  Par- 
liament on  state  occasions. 

Mr.  John  Howe,  the  Protector's  chaplain,  living 
on  radiant  lofty  heights,  far  above  the  thirty  thou- 
sand controversial  pamphlets,  himself  a  living  tem- 
ple of  the  living  truth  he  adored. 

Colonel  Hutchinson  and  Mistress  Lucy,  with  that 
lofty  piety  of  theirs,  which,  as  she  said,  "  is  the 
hlood-royal  of  all  the  virtues."  He  with  his  re- 
publican love  of  liberty,  and  stately  chivalry  of 
character  and  demeanour :  she  with  her  pure  and 
passionate  love ;  with  her  earnest  endeavours  to 
judge  men  and  things  by  high  impartial  stand- 
ards ;  and  her  success  in  so  far  as  that  standard 
was  embodied  in  her  husband.  Much  of  their  time, 
however,  during  the  Commonwealth  they  spent  on 
the  Colonel's  estate,  collecting  pictures  and  sculp- 
ture, planting  trees,  "  procuring  tutors  to  instruct 
their  sons  and  daughters  in  languages,  sciences, 
music,  and  dancing,  whilst  he  himself  instructed 
them  in  humility,  godliness,  ar.d  virtue." 


GN  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  245 

And  Mr.  John  Milton,  blinded  to  the  sights  of 
this  lower  world  by  his  zeal  in  writing  that  Defence 
of  the  English  People  which  wakened  all  Europe 
like  a  trumpet ;  and  by  his  very  blindness,  it  seemed, 
made  free  of  higher  worlds  than  were  open  to  com- 
mon mortals.  Whitehall,  I  think,  was  not  degraded 
by  his  dwelling  there,  nor  its  chambers  made  less 
royal  by  his  eyes  having  looked  their  last  through 
those  windows  on 

"  Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  morn  or  even, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  01  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  and  herds,  and  human  face  divine," 

before  his 

light  was  spent, 

Ere  half  his  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide." 

For  his  life  was  indeed  the  pure  and  lofty  poem 
he  said  the  lives  of  all  who  would  write  worthily 
must  be. 

The  Society  of  our  Puritan  London  in  those  Com- 
monwealth days  was  not  altogether  rustical  or  fa- 
natical. Discourse  echoes  back  to  me  from  it  which 
can,  I  think,  have  needed  to  be  tuned  but  lit  :le 
higher  to  flow  unbroken  into  the  speech  of  the  City, 
where  all  the  citizens  are  as  kings,  and  all  the  con- 
gregation seers  and  singers. 

The  first  public  event  after  our  return  to  London 
was  the  funeral  of  General  Ireton,  Bridget  Crom- 
well's brave  husband,  who  had  died  at  his  post  in 
Ireland. 

He  was  buried  in  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel 
21* 


246  OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

The  concourse  was  great.  Dr.  Owen  preached  th« 
funeral  sermon.  There  was  no  pomp  of  funeral  -cer- 
emonial, of  organ-music  or  choir.  The  Puritan  fu- 
neral solemnities  were  the  pomp  of  solemn  words, 
and  the  eloquent  music  of  the  truths  which  stir 
men's  hearts. 

The  text  was,  "  But  go  thou  thy  way  till  the  end 
"be  ;  for  thou  shalt  rest,  and  stand  in  thy  lot  at  the 
end  of  the  days."  (Dan.  xii.  13). 

"It  is  not  the  manner  of  God,"  Dr.  Owen  said, 
"  to  lay  aside  those  whom  He  hath  found  faithful  in 
His  service.  Men  indeed  do  so  ;  but  God  changeth 
not. 

"  There  is  an  appointed  season  wherein  the  saints 
of  the  most  eminent  abilities,  in  the  most  useful 
employments,  must  receive  their  dismission.  There 
is  a  manifold  wisdom  which  God  imparteth  to  the 
sons  of  men ;  there  is  a  civil  wisdom,  and  there  is 
a  spiritual  wisd  jra :  both  these  shone  in  Ireton. 

"  He  ever  counted  it  his  wisdom  to  look  after  the 
will  of  God  in  all  wherein  he  was  called  to  serve. 
For  this  were  his  wakings,  watchings,  inquiries. 
When  that  was  made  out,  he  counted  not  his  busi- 
ness half  done,  but  even  accomplished,  and  that  the 
issue  was  ready  at  the  door.  The  name  of  God  was 
his  land  in  every  storm ;  in  the  discovery  whereof 
he  had  as  happy  an  eye,  at  the  greatest  seeming 
distance,  when  the  clouds  were  blackest  and  the 
waves  highest,  as  any. 

"  Neither  did  he  rest  here.  Some  men  have  wis- 
dom to  know  things,  but  not  seasons.  Things  as 
well  as  words  are  beautiful  in  their  time.     He  was 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 


H7 


wise  to  cLscern  the  seasons.  There  are  few  things 
that  belong  to  civil  affairs  but  are  alterable  upon 
the  incomprehensible  variety  of  circumstances.  He 
that  will  have  the  garment,  made  for  him  one  year, 
serve  and  fit  him  the  next,  must  be  sure  that  he 
neither  increase  nor  wane.  Importune  insisting  on 
the  most  useful  things,  without  respect  to  alterations 
of  seasons,  is  a  sad  sign  of  a  narrow  heart.  He  who 
thinks  the  most  righteous  and  suitable  proposals 
and  principles  that  ever  were  in  the  world  (setting 
aside  general  rules  of  unchangeable  righteousness 
and  equity)  must  be  performed  as  desirable,  because 
once  they  were,  is  a  stranger  to  the  affairs  of  human 
kind. 

"Some  things  are  universally  unchangeable  and 
indispensable  :  as  that  a  government  must  be.  Some 
again  are  allowable  merely  on  the  account  of  pre- 
serving the  former  principles.  If  any  of  them  are 
out  of  course,  it  is  a  vacuum  in  nature  politic,  which 
all  particular  elements  instantly  dislodge  and  trans- 
pose themselves  to  supply.  And  such  are  all  forma 
of  government  among  men. 

"  In  love  to  his  people  Ireton  was  eminent.  All 
his  pains,  labour,  jeopards  of  life,  and  all  dear  to 
him,  relinquishments  of  relatives  and  contents,  had 
sweetness  of  lii'e  from  this  motive,  intenseness  of 
love  to  his  people. 

"But  fathers  and  prophets  have  but  their  season: 
they  have  their  dismission.  So  old  Simeon  profess- 
eth,  Nunc  dimitlis.  They  are  placed  of  God  in  their 
Station  as  2.  sentinel  on  his  watch-tower,  and  then 
they  are   dismissed  from   their  watch.     The  greal 


2 ,,.8  ON   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

Captain  comes  and  saith,  Go  thou  thy  way;  tlioo 
hast  faithfully  discharged  thy  duty ;  go  now  to  thy 
rest.  Some  have  harder  service,  harder  duty,  than 
others.  Some  keep  guard  in  the  winter,  others  in 
the  summer.  Yet  duty  they  all  do  ;  all  endure  some 
hardship,  and  have  their  appointed  season  for  dis- 
mission: and  be  they  never  so  excellent  in  the  dis- 
charging of  their  duty,  they  shall  not  abide  one  mo- 
ment beyond  the  bounds  which  He  hath  set  them 
who  saith  to  all  His  creatures,  '  Thus  far  shall  you 
go  and  no  further.' 

"  The  three  most  eminent  works  of  God  in  and 
about  His  children  in  the  days  of  old  were  His  giv- 
ing His  people  the  law,  and  settling  them  in  Ca- 
naan ;  His  recovering  them  from  Babylon  ;  and  His 
promulgation  of  the  gospel  unto  them.  In  these 
three  works  he  employed  three  most  eminent  per- 
sons. Moses  is  the  first,  Daniel  is  the  second,  and 
John  Baptist  is  the  third  ;  and  none  of  them  saw  the 
work  accomplished  in  which  he  was  so  eminently 
employed.  Moses  died  the  year  before  the  people 
entered  Canaan ;  Daniel  some  few  years  before  the 
foundation  of  the  temple ;  and  John  Baptist  in  the 
first  year  of  the  baptism  of  our  Saviour,  when  the 
gospel  which  he  began  to  preach  was  to  be  pub- 
lished in  its  beauty  and  glory.  I  do  not  know  of 
any  great  work  that  God  carried  out,  the  same  p<?r 
sons  to  be  the  beginners  and  enclers  thereof.  Should 
He  leave  the  work  always  on  one  hand,  it  would 
eeem  at  length  to  be  the  work  of  the  instrument 
only.  Though  the  people  opposed  Moses  at  first, 
yet  it  is  thought  they  would  have  worshipped  him 


OJV  BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE   SEA.  ^ 

at  the  last ;  and  therefore  God  buried  him  where 
his  body  was  not  to  he  found.     Yet,  indeed,  he  bad 
the  lot  of  m  st  who  faithfully  serve  God  in  their 
generation — despised  while  they  are  present,  idol 
ized  when  they  are  gone. 

"  God  makes  room,  as  it  were,  in  His  vineyard  for 
♦he  budding,  flourishing,  and  fruit-bearing  of  other 
plants  which  He  hath  planted. 

"  You  that  are  employed  in  the  work  of  God,  you 
have  but  your  allotted  season — your  day  hath  its 
evening.  You  have  your  sea:on,  and  you  have  but 
your  season  ;  neither  can  you  lie  down  in  peace  until 
you  have  some  persuasion  tluxc  your  work  as  well  as 
your  life  is  at  an  end. 

"  Behold  here  one  receiving  his  dismission  about 
the  age  of  forty  years ;  and  what  a  world  of  work 
for  God  did  he  in  that  season.  And  now  rest  is 
sweet  to  this  labouring  man.  Provoke  one  another 
by  examples.  Be  diligent  to  pass  through  your 
work,  and  let  it  not  too  long  ha,ng  upon  your  hands  ; 
yea,  search  out  work  for  God.  You  that  are  en- 
trusted with  power  trifle  not  away  your  season.  Is 
there  no  oppressed  person  that  with  diligence  you 
might  relieve?  Is  there  no  poor  distressed  widow 
or  orphan  whose  righteous  requests  you  might  ex- 
pedite and  despatch  ?  Are  there  no  stout  offenders 
against  God  and  man  that  might  be  chastised  ?  Are 
there  no  slack  and  slow  counties  and  cities  in  the 
execution  of  justice  tl  it  might  be  quickened  V* 
your  example?  no  places  destitute  of  the  gospei 
that  might  be  furnished? 

"  God  takes  His  saints  away  (among  other  refv 


250  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

sons)  to  manifest  that  He  hath  better  things  in  stt  re 
for  them  than  the  best  and  utmost,  of  what  they  can 
desire  or  aim  at  here  below.  He  had  a  heaven  foi 
Moses,  and  therefore  might  in  mercy  deny  him  Ca- 
naan. Whilst  you  are  labouring  for  a  handful  ot 
first-fruits,  He  gives  you  the  full  harvest. 

"  You  that  are  engaged  in  the  work  of  God,  seek 
for  the  reward  of  your  service  in  the  service  itself. 
Few  of  you  may  live  to  see  that  beauty  and  glory 
which  perhaps  you  aim  at.  God  will  proceed  at 
His  own  pace,  and  calls  us  to  go  along  with  Him  ; 
to  wait  in  faith  and  not  make  haste.  Those  whose 
minds  are  so  fixed  on,  and  swallowed  up  with,  some 
end  (though  good)  which  they  have  proposed  to 
themselves,  do  seldom  see  good  days  and  serene  in 
their  own  souls.  There  is  a  sweetness,  there  is 
wages  to  be  found  in  the  work  of  God  itself.  Men 
who  have  learned  to  hold  communion  with  God  in 
every  work  He  calls  them  out  unto,  though  they 
never  see  the  main  harvest  they  aim  at,  yet  such 
will  rest  satisfied,  and  submit  to  the  Lord's  limita- 
tion of  their  time.  They  bear  their  sheaves  in  their 
own  bosom. 

"  The  condition  of  a  dismissed  saint  is  a  condition  of 
test.  Now  rest  holds  out  two  things  to  us;  a  free- 
dom from  what  is  opposite  thereunto,  and  something 
which  satisfies  our  nature;  for  nothing  can  rest  but 
in  that  which  satiates  the  whole  nature  of  it  in  all 
its  extent  and  capacity. 

"  They  are  at  rest  from  sin,  and  from  labour  and 
travail  They  sin  no  more ;  they  wound  the  Lord 
Jesus  no  more;   they  trouble  their  own  souls  no 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  25. 

more;  they  grieve  the  Spirit  no  more;  they  dis 
honour  the  gospt  1  no  more ;  they  are  troubled  no 
more  with  Satan's  temptations,  no  more  with  their 
own  corruption;  but  lie  down  in  a  constant  enjoy- 
ment of  one  everlasting  victory  over  sin.  They  aro 
no  more  in  cold  communion.  They  have  not  one 
thought  that  wanders  from  God  to  all  eternity. 
They  lose  Him  no  more. 

"  There  is  no  more  watching,  no  more  fasting,  no 
more  wrestling,  no  more  fighting,  no  more  blood, 
no  more  sorrow.  There  tyrants  pretend  no  more 
title  to  their  kingdom ;  rebels  lie  not  in  wait  for 
their  blood;  they  are  no  more  awakened  by  the 
sound  of  the  trumpet,  nor  the  noise  of  the  instru- 
ments of  death ;  they  fear  not  for  their  relations ; 
they  weep  not  for  their  friends.  The  Lamb  is  their 
temple,  and  God  is  all  in  all  unto  them. 

"  Yet  this  cessation  from  sin  and  labour  will  not 
complete  their  rest ;  something  further  is  required 
thereto  ;  even  something  to  satisfy  and  everlastingly 
content  +-hem.  Free  them  in  your  thoughts  from 
what  you  please,  without  this  they  are  not  at  rest. 
God  is  the  rest  of  their  souls.  Dismissed  saints  rest 
in  the  bosom  of  God;  because  in  the  fruition  of 
Him  they  are  everlastingly  satisfied,  as  having  at- 
tained the  utmost  end  whereto  they  were  created, 
all  the  blessedness  whereof  they  are  capable. 

"  Every  man  stands  in  a  threefold  capacity — 
natural,  civil,  religious.  And  there  are  distinct 
qualifications  unto  these  several  capacities.  To  the 
first  are  suited  some  seeds  of  those  l.eroical  virtue^ 
rb  courage,  permanency  in  business.     T*j  the  ttivl 


tr2  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

capacity,  ability,  faithfulness,  industry.  In  *heii 
religious  capacity,  men's  peculiar  ornament  lies  in 
those  fruits  of  the  Spirit  which  we  call  Christian 
graces.  Of  these,  in  respect  of  usefulness,  there 
are  three  most  eminent,  faith,  love  and  self-denial, 
Now  all  these  were  eminent  in  the  person  deceased 
My  business  is  not  to  make  a  funeral  oration,  only 
I  suppose  that  without  offence  I  may  desire  that  in 
courage  and  permanency  in  business  (which  I  name 
in  opposition  to  that  unsettled,  pragmatical,  shuf 
fling  disposition  which  is  in  some  men),  in  ability 
for  wisdom  and  counsel,  in  faithfulness  to  his  trust 
and  in  his  trust,  in  indefatigable  industry,  in  faith 
in  the  promises  of  God,  in  love  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
and  all  His  saints,  in  a  tender  regard  to  their  in- 
terest, delight  in  their  society,  contempt  of  himself 
and  all  his  for  the  gospel's  sake,  in  impartiality  and 
sincerity  in  the  execution  of  justice,  that  in  these 
and  the  like  things  we  may  have  many  raised  up  in 
the  power  and  spirit  wherein  he  walked  before  tht 
Lord  and  before  this  nation.  This  I  hope  I  may 
speak  without  offence  here  upon  such  an  occasion 
as  this.  My  business  being  occasionally  to  preach 
the  Woid,  not  to  carry  on  a  part  of  a  funeral  cere- 
mony, I  shall  add  no  more,  but  commit  you  to  Him 
who  is  able  to  prepare  you  for  your  eternal  con- 
dition." 

Often  I  had  longed,  if  only  for  once,  to  hear  the 
organ  rolling  its  grand  surges  of  music  through 
the  aisles  of  the  Abbey.  But  when  that  grave 
voice  ceased,  and  left  a  hush  through  that  great 
assembly,  I  felt  no  music  could  be  more  wTorthy  of 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   1  HE  SEA.  253 

the  solemn  place  than  those  nobly  reticent  words 
of  lamentation  and  praise ;  nor  could  England 
raise  a  nobler  statue  to  any  of  her  heroes  than  that 
Puritan  picture  of  a  Christian  statesman. 

Indeed,  the  public  p^mps  of  the  Commonwealth 
•which  have  engraven  themselves  most  deeply  on 
my  memory  were  of  the  funereal  kind. 

In  1650,  fire  years  after  Ireton's  death,  for  once, 
by  the  Protector's  command,  the  dear,  long-un- 
familiar sound  of  the  old  Prayer-book  was  heard  in 
the  Abbey,  as  the  funeral  service  was  read  over 
the  remains  of  good  Archbishop  Usher,  buried  at 
the  Protector's  expense  in  the  great  mausoleum  of 
the  nation  and  her  kings. 

In  November,  ]  654,  three  years  after  the  funeral 
of  Ireton,  Mistress  Cromwell,  the  Protector's  mo- 
ther, was  buried  beside  him  among  the  kings. 

She  was  ninety-four  years  of  age.  She  died  on 
the  15th  of  November.  A  little  before  her  death 
(we  heard)  she  gave  the  Protector  her  blessing, 
saying,  "  The  Lord  cause  His  face  to  shine  upon 
you,  and  comfort  you  in  all  your  adversities,  and 
enable  you  to  do  great  things  for  the  glory  of  your 
most  high  God,  and  to  be  a  relief  unto  His  people. 
My  dear  son,  I  leave  my  heart  with  thee.  Good- 
night ! " 

She,  living  wellnigh  all  those  fifty-five  years  of 
his  beside  him,  knew  well  that  his  life  had  been  no 
triumphal  procession,  but  a  toilsome  march  and  a 
sore  battle,  little  indeed  changed  by  the  battle-field 
being  transferred  from  moors  and  hill-sides  to 
palaces  and  parliament-houses.     At  sound  of  a.gui) 


254 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


she  was  Avont  to  tremble  in  that  stately  home  at 
Whitehall,  fearing  lest  some  of  the  many  plots  of 
assassination  had  at  last  succeeded  in  proving  to 
the  assassin  that  killing  her  son  was  no  murder 
And  once  at  least  every  day  she  craved  to  see  him, 
if  only  to  know  that  he  lived. 

They  laid  her  to  rest  reverently  among  the  kings 
in  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel.  And  so  the  conse- 
crating presence  of  tenderly-reverenced  age  passed 
from  that  English  home,  which  daring  the  years 
of  the  Commonwealth  was  at  the  head  of  all  the 
homes  of  the  land. 

And  five  years  after  came  that  last  funeral, 
which  was,  indeed,  the  funeral  of  the  Common- 
wealth itself. 

These  are  the  state  ceremonies  of  the  Common- 
wealth which  have  left  the  deepest  mark  on  my 
memory.  Its  thanksgivings  for  victories,  its  in- 
auguration, installation,  and  enthronization  of  the 
Lord  Protector  in  Westminster  Hall  were  not  with- 
out a  certain  sober  republican  grandeur,  nor  did 
the  ermine  and  the  sceptre  misbecome  the  true 
dignity  of  his  bearing ;  but  they  did  not,  I  think, 
enhance  it.  Clothes  need  some  mystical  links  to 
the  unseen  and  the  past  to  make  them  glorious ; 
and  Oliver  certainly  did  not  need  clothes  to  make 
him  glorious.  The  brow,  fun-owed  with  thought 
for  England,  was  his  crown ;  the  sceptre  seemed  a 
bauble  in  the  hand  that  had  ruled  so  Ions;  without 
it;  and  the  rjbes  of  state  that  fitted  him  best 
were  the  plain  armour  of  the  Ironsides.  Roger, 
however,  thought  otherwise.     He  would  have  had 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   C  F  TEE  SEA. 


2 


r    • 


every  symbol  of  the  royalty  witltin  our  "chief  of 
men"  outwardly  gathered  around  him,  even  to  the 
crown  and  title  of  king.  Whatever  may  be  the 
case  in  religion,  in  politics  (he  thought),  the  com- 
mon people  are  taught  by  ceremonial.  As  the 
Protector  said  "  The  people  love  that  they  do 
know ;  they  love  settlement  and  know  names." 
If  Oliver,  he  thought,  had  been  proclaimed  king,  no 
Stuart  would  have  returned  to  proclaim  him  traitor. 

Be  that  as  it  might,  it  was  not  done ;  and  the 
omission  seemed  (to  many)  to  make  the  rest  of  the 
state  ceremonials  of  the  Commonwealth  ragged 
and  incomplete.  Crowned,  Oliver  might  have  be- 
come in  the  eyes  of  the  people  King  Oliver  ;  un- 
crowned, he  seemed  but  Mr.  Cromwell  of  Hunting- 
don, with  a  sceptre  in  his  hand  which  did  not 
belong  to  him. 

But  after  all,  the  great  solemnities  of  the  Com- 
monwealth were  the  sermons.  Great  sermons  and 
great  congregations  to  hear  them.  They  were  our 
state-music,  our  military-music,  our  church-music, 
all  in  one.  The  Te  Deum  of  our  thanksgiving 
days  foi  victories,  our  coronation  anthems,  our 
requiems. 

The  sermons  which  so  moved  the  heart  of  Puri- 
tan England  werr  no  empty  sound  of  words  har- 
moniously arranged, — a  lower  music,  I  think,  than 
that  of  any  true  musician;  —  for  words  have  a 
higher  sphere  than  mere  melodious  tones;  aTid, 
like  all  orders  in  creation,  if  they  do  not  rise  to 
the  height  of  their  own  sphere,  fall  belc  w  the 
sphere  btlow  them. 


*56  ON   BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

It  was  the  eloquence  of  men  speaking  to  men,  ol 
things  which  most  deeply  concerned  all  men  ;  of 
the  ablest  men  in  England  speaking  to  her  ablest 
men  ;  of  the  loftiest  spirits  in  England  speaking 
to  all  that  was  loftiest  in  ithe  spirit  of  man. 

Dr.  Owen's  appearances  in  London  were  only 
occasional. 

The  sermons  that  come  back  on  me  across  the 
years  like  the  voice  of  a  great  river  resounding 
with  deep  even  flow  through  all  the  petty  or 
tumultuous  noises  of  the  times,  are  those  of  Mr. 
John  Howe,  chaplain  to  the  Protector. 

He  came  to  London  as  a  country  minister  from 
his  parish  of  Torrington,  somewhere  about  1654, 
and  went  to  hear  the  preaching  in  Whitehall 
Chapel.  But  Oliver,  "  who  generally  had  his  eyes 
everywhere,"  and  wdiose  eyes  had  such  a  singular 
faculty  for  seeing  men's  capacity,  discerned  some- 
thing more  than  ordinary  in  his  countenance,  and 
sent  to  desire  to  speak  with  him  after  the  worship 
of  God  was  over.  The  interview  satisfied  him  he 
had  not  been  mistaken.  The  great  heart  that  so 
singularly  honoured  the  worth  his  eyes  were  so 
quick  to  discern,  whether  those  he  honoured  hon- 
oured him  or  not ;  and  the  will  so  strong  to  bend 
all  men's  wills,  would  not  rest  until  he  had  induced 
the  parson  of  Torrington,  though  somewhat  reluc- 
tantly, to  become  his  own  chaplain. 

The  choice  might  reflect  some  light  on  the  nature 
of  the  Protector's  own  piety. 

There  was  abundance  of  vehement  fiery  elo- 
quence to  be  had  among  the  Puritan  preachers,  and 


ON  BOTH  SIDhS   OF  THE  SEA.  257 

(I  doubt  not)   there  could  have   been   found    too 
many  flatterers. 

But  Mr.  Howe  so  little  flattered  the  Protector, 
that  he  deliberately  preached  against  the  doctrine 
of  a  particular  persuasion  in  prayer,  which  was  one 
of  the  Protector's  strongholds. 

And  so  far  was  his  eloquence  from  being  vehe- 
ment, that  its  very  glory  was  a  majestic  evenness 
of  flow,  which,  while  it  swept  the  whole  soul  irre- 
sistibly on  to  his  conclusion,  seldom  tossed  it  up 
and  down  with  those  changeful  heavings  of  emo- 
tion that  are  the  luxuries  of  popular  orations.  Any 
preacher  who  was  less  of  a  fiery  declaimer  and  of  a 
fanatic,  or  less  of  a  brilliant  popular  orator  than  John 
Howe,  Oliver's  chosen  chaplain,  can,  I  think,  scarcely 
be  found  in  the  history  of  preaching.  If  he  had  a 
fault,  it  is  the  difficulty  of  detaching  any  word, 
image,  or  pointed  sentence  from  the  grand  sweep 
of  his  argument  sufficiently  to  give  any  conception 
of  its  power  to  those  who  did  not  hear  him.  If  his 
eloquence  was  a  river,  it  was  one  without  the  dash 
and  sparkle  of  rapids  and  eddies,  steadily  deepen- 
ing and  broadening,  in  a  majestic  current  to  its  end. 
If  it  was  a  fire,  it  was  no  mere  spark  or  flame  to 
make  t lie.  heart  glow  for  a  moment,  but  a  steady 
favr.act  enkindling  principles  into  divine  affections. 
If  it  was  a  flight,  it  was  no  mere  darting  hither  and 
thither,  as  of  smaller  birds ;  scarcely  even  the  up- 
ward musical  mounting  of  the  lark  to  descend  on 
her  nest ;  but  the  soaring  of  the  eagle  with  his  eye 
on  the  sun.  He  Btrenthened  you  for  duty  by  trans. 
portiug  you  to  the  divine  spring  of  all  duty,  IU 
22* 


25 8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

strengthened  you  against  earthly  care  simply  by 
lifting  you  above  it  to  "the  holy  ordei  of  God." 
"  Do  not  hover  as  meteors ;  do  not  let  your  minds 
hang  in  the  air  in  a  pendulous,  uncertain,  unquiet 
posture,"  he  said ;  "  a  holy  rectitude,  composure, 
and  tranquillity  in  our  life,  carries  with  it  a  lively, 
sprightly  vigour.  Our  Saviour  says  that  life  con- 
sists not  in  things,  but  in  a  good  healthy  internal 
habit  of  spirit.  What  a  blessed  repose,  how  plea- 
sant a  vacancy  of  diseasing,  vexatious  thoughts, 
doth  that  soul  enjoy  which  gives  a  constant,  unin- 
termittent  consent  to  the  divine  government,  when 
it  is  an  agreed,  undisputed  thing,  that  God  shall 
always  lead  and  prescribe,  and  it  follow  and  obey. 
Discontent  proceeds  from  self-conceit,  self-depend- 
ence, self-seeking,  all  which  despicable  idols  (or  that 
one  great  idol  self  thus  variously  idolized)  one  sight 
of  God  would  bring  to  nothing." 

He  strengthened  men  for  death,  not  by  fortifying 
them  against  it  as  a  sleep,  but  by  regarding  life  as 
the  sleep  and  death  the  waking.  "  It  fares  with 
the  sluggish  soul  as  if  it  were  lodged  in  an  en- 
chanted bed.  So  deep  an  oblivion  hath  seized  it 
of  its  own  country,  of  its  alliance  above,  of  its  re- 
lation to  the  Father  and  world  of  spirits,  it  takes 
this  earth  for  its  home  where  'tis  both  in  exile  and 
-nptivity  at  once,  as  a  prince  stolen  away  in  his 
•ufancy  and  bred  up  in  a  beggar's  shed.  Being  in 
the  body,  it  is  as  with  a  bird  that  hath  lost  its  wings. 
The  holy  soul's  release  from  its  earthly  body  will 
Bhak«j  off  this  drowsy  sleep.  Now  is  the  happy 
Reason  of  its  awaking  into  the  heaveuly  vital  lighi 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THB    SEA. 


259 


of  God.  The  blessed  morning  of  the  long-desired 
day  hath  now  dawned  upon  it ;  the  cumbersome 
nigl  t-veil  is  laid  aside,  and  the  garments  of  salva- 
tion and  immortal  glory  .re  now  put  on."  "  The 
greatest  enemy  Ave  have  cannot  do  us  the  despite 
to  keep  us  from  dying."  To  one  whose  spirit  was 
thus  itself  a  living  Temple,  even  the  great  Abbey 
seemed  an  earthly  home.  The  incense,  the  ritual, 
and  the  music  of  the  heavenly  city  were  ai'ound 
Him.  "  The  sacrifice  of  Christ,"  he  said,  "  is  of 
virtue  to  perfume  the  whole  world." 

Yet  I  feel  that  these  extracts  give  as  little  idea 
of  the  power  of  his  preaching,  as  a  phial  of  salt- 
water of  the  sea.  You  perceive  from  it  that  the 
water  of  the  sea  is  salt  and  clear,  but  of  the  sea 
itself,  heaving  in  multitudinous  waves  from  horizon 
to  horizon,  you  have  no  more  idea  than  before. 

The  very  titles  of  his  books  read  like  arguments 
of  a  divine  poem — a  Paradise  Lost  and  Regained. 
"  The  Living  Temple  ;"  "  The  Blessedness  of  the 
Righteous ;"  "  Of  Delighting  in  God;"  "The  Re- 
deemer's  Tears  wept  over  lost  Souls;"  "  The  Love 
of  God  and  our  Brother  ;"  "  The  Carnality  of  Re- 
ligious Contention  ;"  "  Of  Reconciliation  between 
God  and  Man  ;"  "  The  Redeemer's  Dominion  over 
the  Invisible  World." 

Far  indeed  his  spirit  dwelt  above  the  small  con- 
troversies of  the  time,  engaged  in  the  great  contro- 
versy of  light  against  darkness.  "  Holiness,"  he 
said,  "  is  the  Christian's  armour,  the  armour  of 
light :  strange  armour  that  may  be  seen  through." 
"  \  good  man's  armour  is  that  he  needs  non«e ;  his 


26o  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

armour  is  an  open  breast.  Likeness  to  God  is  an 
armour  of  proof.  A  person  truly  like  God  is  fat 
raised  above  the  tempestuous  stormy  region,  and 
converses  where  winds  and  clouds  have  no  place. 
Holy  souls  were  once  darkness,  but  now  they  are 
light  in  the  Lord — darkness,  not  in  the  dark,  as  if 
that  were  their  whole  nature,  and  they  were  nothing 
but  an  impure  mass  of  conglobated  darkness.  So 
'ye  are  light] — as  if  they  were  that  and  nothing 
else.  How  suppose  we  such  an  entire  sphere  of 
nothing  else  but  pure  light?  What  can  raise  a 
storm  with  it  ?  A  calm  serene  thing,  perfectly 
homogeneous,  void  of  contrariety.  We  cannot  yet 
say  that  thus  it  is  with  holy  souls,  but  thus  it  will 
be  when  they  awake.  Glory  is  revealed  to  them, 
transfused  through  them ;  not  a  svperficial  skin- 
deep  glory,  but  a  transformation,  changing  the  soul 
throughout;  glory,  blessedness,  brought  home  ana 
lodged  in  a  mail's  oivn  soul." 

Blessedness,  to  Mr.  Howe,  consisted  in  godliness, 
and  godliness  manifested  itself  in  goodness — as 
high  a  conception  of  Christian  religion,  I  think,  as 
has  been  realized  before  or  since.  His  learning:  was 
not  as  fragments  of  a  foreign  language,  intertwined 
for  purposes  of  decoration  with  his  own,  but  as  a 
translation  into  the  language  of  day  of  the  converse 
he  had  held,  on  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  with 
his  kindred  among  the  lofty  souls  of  the  past,  in 
the  language  native  to  them  all,  concerning  the  in- 
finite heavens  above  them  all.  This  wa.$  the  kind  of 
eloquence  we  listened  to  at  Whitehall  and  St.  Mar- 
garet's during  the  days  of  the  Commonwealth.    A  ud 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  26i 

among  all  the  great  Puritan  preachers  this  was  the 
one  whom  Oliver  chose  for  his  chaplain. 

We  never  intruded  ourselves  on  the  Protector 
during  his  greatness.  There  were  so  many  to  claim 
his  notice  then.  And  we  needed  it  not ;  having 
work  enough  to  occupy  us  and  means  enough  to  do 
it,  and  happiness  enough  in  it,  what  with  the  sick 
and  the  prisons  and  the  children  in  the  home. 

But  Roger  was  always  in  his  service,  and  he 
brought  us  word  continually  what  a  burden  and 
toil  that  rule  was  to  the  ruler. 

Above  the  noisy  strife  of  parties,  men  like  Howe 
could  dwell  in  the  purer  air ;  beneath  it  the  people 
and  the  churches  were  silently  prospering.  But 
Oliver's  way  lay  through  the  thick  of  the  strife, 
with  little  intermission,  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end.  If  ever  "  I  serve  "  was  justly  a  prince's  motto, 
it  was  his.  "  Ready  to  serve,"  as  he  said,  "  not  us 
a  king  but  as  a  constable  ;  if  they  liked  it,  often  think- 
ing indeed  that  he  could  not  tell  what  his  business 
in  the  place  he  stood  in  was,  save  that  of  a  good 
constable  set  to  keep  the  peace  of  the  parish." 
Oliver's  parish  (Roger  said)  being  England  with  all 
her  parties,  and  Europe  with  her  Protestants  and 
Catholics,  ready  at  a  word  to  fly  on  each  other. 
He  kept  the  peace  of  his  parish  well.  Others  might 
concern  themselves  with  the  well-being  of  the  nation 
(as  he  said) — "  he  had  to  consider  its  being."  The 
ship  which  the  mixed  crew  of  Anabaptists,  Level- 
lers, classical  Republicans,  and  Royalists,  were  de- 
bating in  Parliament  and  out  of  it  how  to  work 
according  to  most  perfect  rules,  had  meantime  to  br 


262  ON  BOTH   SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

worked,  beine:  not  in  harbour  but  on  the  stormiest 
sea,  amidst  hostile  fleets. 

Parliament  after  parliament  met,  debated,  did 
nothing,  and  was  dissolved.  But  still  the  ship  of 
the  nation  sailed  majestically  and  triumphantly  on, 
breasting  stormy  waves  and  scattering  hostile  fleets, 
with  that  one  hand  on  the  helm,  and  the  eyes  of 
that  one  man  on  the  stars  and  on  the  waves. 

Roger  was  full  of  hope  throughout  those  years. 
The  time  must  come,  he  said,  when  the  nation  would 
see  what  the  Protector  was  doing  for  her.  All 
Europe  had  seen  it  long.  Ambassadors  came  from 
Spain,  France,  Denmark,  Sweden,  Austria. 

All  Europe  felt  England  a  power,  and  knew  who 
made  her  so.  England  herself  could  not  fail  to  see 
it  soon.  Then,  instead  of  taking  her  greatness  sul- 
lenly from  Oliver's  hands,  she  would  acknowledge 
him  as  the  "  single  person  "  to  whom  the  parlia- 
ments and  people  owed  allegiance — her  sovereign 
by  divinest  right — suffer  him  to  rule  in  accordance 
with  her  ancient  order  instead  of  in  spite  of  it — 
grant  what  he  passionately  craved,  the  privilege 
of  making  her  as  free  as  he  had  made  her  strong : 
rise  herself  to  be  the  queen  of  the  Protestant  na- 
tions. 

And  then  the  glorious  day  would  dawn,  Roger 
thought,  for  England  and  the  world.  What  tender 
sweet  hopes  lay  deep  in  his  heart,  as  one  of  the  rose* 
strewn  by  this  Aurora,  I  knew  well.  What  Eng- 
land and  the  world  said,  one  maiden's  heart  would 
surely  be  blind  to  no  more  ! 

So  the  years  passed  on.     Our  fleets,  with  Blakff 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  263 

in  command,  were  ranging  ffie  Me  iiterranean  Sea, 
Rumours  came  of  victories  over  Italian  and  Mus- 
sulman, of  compensation  for  wrong,  of  slaves  set 
free. 

In  the  late  king's  reign  the  Barbary  Pirates  had 
carried  off  our  countrymen  from  our  shores  near 
•Plymouth  Sound.  Under  Oliver,  our  fleets  battered 
down  the  forts  of  the  Pirates  on  their  own  shores, 
and  set  the  captives  free. 

All  nations  courted  his  alliance.  And  from  tho 
plantations  of  New  England  (through  Mr.  John  Cot- 
ton and  others)  came  joyful  voices  of  congratulation 
on  the  liberties  and  glories  which  these  children  of 
Old  England  felt  still  to  be  theirs. 

All  seemed  advancing,  Roger  thought,  like  a  tri- 
umph. Righteousness  springing  out  of  the  earth, 
Truth  looking:  down  from  heaven — when  tidings 
burst  upon  us  which  stirred  the  heart  of  England  to 
its  depths,  from  sea  to  sea. 

From  the  far-off  valleys  of  the  Alps  of  Piedmont 
came  the  cry  of  wrong.  How  a  whole  race  of  our 
fellow-Protestants,  "men  otherwise  harmless,  cnly 
for  many  years  famous  for  embracing  the  purity  of 
religion,"  had  been  tortured,  massacred,  and  driven 
from  their  homes,  to  perish  naked  and  starving  on 
the  mountains. 

Never,  since  the  Irish  massacre  at  the  beginning 
of  the  Civil  Wars,  had  England  been  so  moved  with 
one  overwhelming  tide  of  indignation  and  pity.  But 
with  the  indignation  at  the  Irish  massacre  meaner 
feelings  of  selfish  terror  had  been  mingled.  Thia 
wrong  touched  England  only  in  her  noblest  part 


164  ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

For  the  time  we  seemed  to  reach  the  depths  beneath 
all  our  divisions  and  turmoils.  England  felt  herseli 
one,  in  this  common  sympathy ;  and  what  was  more, 
the  Protestant  Church  glowed  into  a  living  unity 
through  this  holy  fire  of  indignation  and  pity,  which, 
being  true,  failed  not  to  burst  forth  in  generous 
deeds  of  succour.  "  For,"  as  Milton  wrote,  "  that 
the  Protestant  name  and  cause,  although  they  differ 
among  themselves  in  some  things  of  little  conse- 
quence, is  nevertheless  the  same,  the  hatred  of  our 
adversaries  alike  incensed  against  Protestants  very 
easily  demonstrates." 

The  massacre  began  in  December,  1654,  that  mer- 
ciless "  slaughter  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold." 
Six  regiments  were  engaged  in  it,  three  of  them  the 
Irish  "  Kurisees,"  from  whom  the  Protector  had  de- 
livered Ireland. 

It  was  the  3rd  of  June  before  the  cry  of  distress 
reached  Oliver  at  Whitehall.  The  hills  had  been 
flashing  it  for  five  months  to  heaven.  For  five 
months  our  brethren  and  their  families  had  been 
wandering  destitute,  afflicted,  tormented,  on  the 
mountains  above  their  ruined,  desolated  homes. 

Much  frightful  wrong  had  been  wrought  irrevo 
cably,  past  all  the  remedies  of  earth.  What  remedy 
was  still  possible  there  was  no  delay  in  finding,  and 
no  lack  of  generous  tenderness  in  applying. 

The  Protector  at  once  gave  £2,000  from  his  pri- 
vate purse.  A  day  of  humiliation  was  appointed 
throughout  the  country,  "  such  a  fast  as  God  hath 
chosen,  to  undo  the  heavy  burdens,  to  break  every 
yoke,  to  deal  bread  to  the  hungry,  and  cover  the 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE    SEA.  265 

naked."  Thirty-seven  thousand  pounds  were  contrib- 
uted to  the  suffering  brethren  in  the  Valleys.  Sec- 
retary Milton  wrote  six  State  letters  in  the  Protect- 
or's name  to  the  princes  of  Europe  and  the  Switzer 
Republic.  Oliver  showed  plainly  to  France  that  he 
cared  more  for  the  righting  of  this  wrong  than  fo  r 
the  most  profitable  alliances  in  the  world.  The 
Catholic  world  perceived  for  once  that  Protestant- 
ism meant  more  than  mere  doubt  and  denial,  that  it 
meant  a  common  faith  and  a  common  life. 

And  as  far  as  might  be  the  wrong  was  set  right, 
the  exiles  were  relieved  from  their  destitution  and 
restored  to  their  homes. 

It  was  something  to  be  an  Englishwoman  then. 

Roger  was  appointed  to  accompany  the  envoys 
sent  by  the  Protector  to  Paris.  He  came  to  take 
leave  of  us  with  a  face  all  alit  with  hope. 

"England  is  beginning  to  acknowledge  her  de- 
liverer,"  he  said.  "  All  Europe  is  flashing  back  on 
her  his  kingly  likeness,  as  if  from  a  thousand  mir- 
rors.    She  must  acknowledge  him  at  last." 

And  with  a  farewell  which  had  the  joyous  ring 
of  a  welcome  in  it,  he  went. 

The  joyful  confidence  of  his  tones  and  hope  made 
them  linger  on  mv  heart  long,  like  music,  "  She 
must  acknowledge  him  at  last."  They  mingled 
with  my  dreams,  and  woke  with  me  when  I  woke, 
but  with  a  double  meaning  subtilely  intertwined 
Into  them;  as  if  England  were  personated,  as  in 
some  royal  festive  masque,  in  the  form  of  Lettice 
Daven'aut,  no  more  weeping  and  downcast,  as  when 
23 


266  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA 

I  had  seen  her  last,  hut  her  bright  face,  and  her  deal 
joyous  eyes  full  of  serene  determination  and  un- 
quenchable hope. 

lettice's  diary. 

"  Paris,  Twelfth  Night,  1655.— My  birth-day.  More 
than  four  years  since  I  wrote  a  word  in  this  book 
The  pages  begin  to  look  faded,  like  ray  youth.  1 
scarcely  know  why  I  have  left  such  an  interval,  ex- 
cept that  it  is  so  difficult  not  to  look  on  the  whole 
of  this  life  of  exile  as  an  interval ;  a  blank  space,  or 
an  impertinent  episode  in  the  history  of  life,  which, 
by  and-by,  when  the  true  history  begins  again,  we 
just  tear  out  or  seal  together. 

"  All  this  time  I  have  heard  nothing  from  the  old 
friends  in  England,  except  two  letters ;  one  from 
Mistress  Dorothy,  wherein  she  gave  me  a  terrible 
picture  of  the  wrong-doings  and  thinkings  of  certain 
religious  people  of  an  entirely  new  kind,  whom  she 
calls  '  Quakers.'  It  seems  that  Olive  brought  one 
to  her  house  at  Kidderminster,  which  Mistress  Dor- 
othy thought  a  great  wrong.  As  far  as  I  can  make 
out,  Olive  has  no  thought  of  becoming  a  Quaker ; 
nor  can  I  find  out  distinctly  what  the  Quakers  are 
or  do,  except  that  every  one  seems  enraged  against 
them,  and  that  on  that  ground  Olive  and  Dr.  An- 
tony took  this  Quaker  maiden  under  their  wing. 
Poor  sweet  Olive,  she  always  had  a  way  of  getting 
entangled  into  defending  people  under  general  ban ; 
from  witches  downward  or  upward.  I  suppose  An- 
nis  Nye  is  Olive's  present  Gammer  Grind  le.  In 
whict>  ease,   Olive  at  least   seems  little   changed 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA.  267 

But  that  letter  was  written  before  the  Battle  of 
Worcester.  From  Mistress  Dorothy's  account  they 
appear  to  be  a  new  kind  of  sect,  with  a  new  elab- 
orate ceremonial  or  ritual,  to  which  they  adhere 
very  strictly.  Mistress  Dorothy  speaks  of  their  re- 
fusing to  take  off  their  hats,  and  to  bow  or  courtsey. 
This  must  evidently  be  a  ritual  observance  ;  because 
people  would  scarcely  be  sent  to  prison  simply  for 
keeping  on  their  hats  and  not  courtesying. 

"  Mistress  Dorothy  spoke,  too,  by  the  way,  of 
Olive's  two  children,  Maidie  and  the  babe. 

"  The  babe  must  be  now  a  prattling  child  of  five, 
and  Maidie  probably  a  little  person  invested  with 
the  solemn  responsibilities  of  the  eldest  sister.  I 
fancy  her  with  Olive's  fair,  calm  face,  thinking  it 
her  greatest  honour  to  share  her  mother's  household 
occupations,  or  to  run  by  her  side  with  a  basket  of 
food  to  supplement  Dr.  Antony's  medicines.  I 
fancy  Mistress  Gretel  smiling  at  the  babes,  and  let* 
ting  them  entangle  her  knitting  with  the  feeblest 
of  remonstrances,  and  in  a  serene  way  undermining 
all  Olive's  '  wholesome  discipline.  I  fancy  Mr. 
Drayton  a  little  older,  a  little  graver,  not  quite  sat- 
isfied with  the  fruits  of  the  war,  wishing  Mr.  Hamp- 
den back,  and  Lord  Falkland,  and  England  as  they 
might  have  made  it;  and  taking  refuge  with  the 
stars  and  his  grand-children.  I  fancy — till  I  am 
angry  with  myself  for  fancying  anything,  as  if  it 
made  shadows  out  of  realities.  For  they  live  ;  they 
live,  in  the  old  solid  living  England.  If  any  are 
shadows,  it  is  we,  poor  helpless,  voiceless  exiles  on 
this  shadowy  shore ;  not  they.     And  then  I  begin 


E68  ON  BOTE  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

to  think  not  of  what  I  fancy,  but  what  I  know.  I 
know  they  are  good,  and  kind,  and  godly  still.  And 
I  know — yes,  I  know — they  have  not  forgotten  ; 
they  still  love  and  think  of  me. 

"  Only  sometimes  it  troubles  me  a  little  that  they 
art;  going  on  thinking  of  me  as  the  young  Lettieo 
they  knew  so  long  ago;  which  is  scarcely  the  same 
as  thinking  of  the  middle-aged  Lettice  Davenant 
who  has  reached  her  twenty-ninth  birth-day  to-day. 

"  I  think  sometimes  now  of  the  scorn  with  which 
[  Avas  wont  to  speak  of  middle-states  of  things,  say- 
ing there  was  no  poetry  in  mid-day,  mid-summer, 
middle-station,  middle-age.  And  often  and  often 
the  answer  comes  cheerily  back,  how  he  spoke  of 
'manhood  and  womanhood,  with  their  dower  of 
noble  work,  and  strength  to  do  it ;'  and  how  he 
could  not  abide  '  to  hear  the  spring-tide  spoken  pu- 
lingly  of,  as  if  it  faded  instead  of  ripening  into  sum- 
mer; and  youth,  as  if  it  set  instead  of  dawned  into 
manhood."  '  It  was  but  a  half-fledged  poetry,'  he 
said,  '  which  must  go  to  dew-drops  and  rosy  morn- 
ing clouds  for  its  similes  and  could  see  no  beauty 
in  noon-tide  with  its  patient  toil  or  its  rapturous 
hush  of  rest.' — It  comes  back  to  me  like  an  invigor- 
ating march  music,  now  that  the  joyous  notes  of  the 
reveille  have  died  away,  and  tbe  vesper  hymns  are 
not  yet  ready,  and  the  march  of  noon-tide  life  has 
fairly  begun. 

"  What,  then,  makes  evening  and  morning,  spring 
and  autumn,  the  delight  of  poets  ?  The  light  then 
blossoms  or  fades  into  colour.  The  light  itself  thee 
is  a  fair  picture  to  look  at.    At  noon  it  sinks  deeper 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   VF   THE  SEA.  269 

no  longer  on  the  surface  of  clouds,  but  into  the 
chalices  of  flowers  and  into  the  heart  of  fruits ;  it 
is  painting  pictures  on  the  harvest-fields  and  orch- 
ards ;  it  is  ripening  and  making  the  world  fair,  and 
enabling  us  to  see  it.  It  is  li<>rht  not  to  look  at, 
but  to  work  by.  Its  beauty  is  in  making  things 
beautiful.  And  so  I  think  it  is  with  middle-aoe. 
Its  beauty  is  not  in  itself;  but  in  loving  thought 
for  others,  and  loving  work  for  others.  Looking 
at  ourselves  in  middle-life,  we  see  only  the  glow 
faded,  the  dewy  freshness  brushed  away.  There- 
fore we  must  not  look  at  ourselves,  but  at  the  work 
the  Master  gives  us  to  do,  the  brothers  and  sisters 
the  Father  gives  us  to  love.  In  Olive's  heart,  no 
doubt,  the  thought  of  youth  passing  away  scarcely 
arises.  She  sees  her  children  growing  around  her, 
and  works  and  plans  for  them,  and  counts  the  hours 
again  as  morning,  not  as  evening  hours,  renewing 
her  life  in  the  morning  of  theirs.  And  although 
that  lot  is  not  mine,  I  have  scarcely  more  tempta- 
tion to  '  talk  pulingly  of  morning  fading  into  noon' 
than  she.  Madame  la  Mothe  takes  me  close  to  kei 
heart.  With  her  I  am  her  friend's  child.  Thee 
these  revenues  which  come  to  us  so  much  mor« 
regularly  than  to  most  of  the  Cavaliers,  give  us  so 
many  means  of  helping  others,  that  this  alone  is  an 
occupation.  Especially  as  these  revenues  are,  after 
all,  not  unlimited,  and  my  lather  and  Walter  be- 
lieve they  are  (as  the  wants  of  the  Cavaliers  cer- 
tainly are),  so  that  it  requires  some  planning  and 
combining  to  make  things  go  as  far  as  they  can. 
Which  in  itself  is  a  great  occupation  to  Barbe  and 
23* 


27° 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


me,  ar  d  makes  our  daily  house-keeping  as  interest 
ing  as  a  work  of  charity.  And  since  the  English 
Service  has  been  prohibited  at  the  Louvre,  as  it 
has  been  since  the  Battle  of  Worcester,  I  have 
some  happy  work  in  a  kind  of  little  school  of  young 
English  girls,  amongst  whom  it  is  sweet  to  do  what 
I  can,  that  when  they  go  back,  the  Holy  Scriptures 
and  the  prayers  of  the  dear  old  Prayer-book  may 
not  be  unfamiliar  to  them. 

"  Then  my  father  is  wonderfully  forbearing  with 
me.  For  it  has  vexed  him  that  I  could  not  listen 
to  some  excellent  Cavaliers,  who  wished  for  our 
alliance. 

"  Madame  la  Mothe  also  sometimes  lectures  me 
a  little  on  this  score  with  reference  to  a  nephew 
of  hers.  But  as  the  project  was  primarily  hers 
and  not  his,  this  little  proposal  was  much  easier  to 
decline.  Only  sometimes  she  shakes  her  head  and 
says,— 

" '  There  has  been  a  history,  my  poor  child ! 
Every  woman's  heart  has  its  history.  But  heaven 
forbid  that  I  should  seek  to  penetrate  into  thy 
secret.  Yet  thou  art  not  like  thy  mother  in  all 
things.  She  suffered.  Thou  wilt  conquer.  Hei 
eyes  were  as  those  of  Mater  Dolorosa  by  the 
Cross.  Thine  are  as  those  of  Regina  Cceli  above 
the  storms.'  " 

"And  I  cannot  tell  her.  Because  I  can  never 
look  on  that  love  as  a  history.  I  know  so  well  he 
could  not  change.  It  is  scarcely  betrothal,  for 
there  is  neither  promise  nor  hope.  It  is  simply 
belonging  to  each  other  in  life  and  in  death. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  t? , 

*  Then  sometimes  she  smiles  and  kisses  me  and 
Bays,  '  There  is  some  little  comfort  even  in  thy 
being  of  "  the  religion."  On  that  rock  of  thine,  no 
torrent  of  Port-Royalist  eloquence  will  sweep  thee 
away  from  us  into  a  convent.  And  for  the  rest, 
God  is  merciful ;  and  having  made  islands,  it  is 
possible  He  has  especial  dispensations  suited  to 
islands.'  " 

"For  Madame  la  Mothe  has  entirely  relinquished 
my  conversion.  Seeing  that  I  can  honour  the  ladies 
of  Port  Royal  from  the  bottom  of  the  heart,  with- 
out being  attracted  to  Port  Royal,  she  has  given 
me  up. 

"  She  says  I  have  no  restless  cravings,  no  void 
to  fill,  and  it  is  to  the  restlessness  of  the  heart  that 
the  repose  of  religion  appeals. 

"  In  one  way  she  is  right.  Thank  God  she  is 
right.  Or  rather  my  whole  heart  is  one  great  crav- 
ing unfathomable  void.  But  Christianity  fills  it. 
Christ  fills  it.  He  Himself ;  satisfying  every  aspira- 
tion, meeting  every  want,  being  all  I  want.  Pity- 
ing, forgiving,  loving,  commanding  me.  The  com- 
manding sometimes  most  satisfying  of  all.  Always, 
always;  all  through  my  heart.  Redeemer,  that  ih 
much;  Master,  1  hat  (afterwards)  is  almost  more. 
Father!   thai  is  all. 

"There  have  been  sorrows.  After  Worcester,  my 
father  was  so  terribly  cast  down  and  gentle.  I 
remember  it  was  almost  a  relief  the  first  time  he 
was  really  a  little  angry  after  that  ;  although  it 
was  with  me  he  Avas  angry  ;  and  quite  a  relief  to 
hear  hira  begin  tc  storm  at  the  French  Coar',  a^ain, 


272  OX  LOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

when  they  suppressed  our  English  Service  at  the 
Louvre,  and  did  what  they  could  with  any  civility 
to  suppress  or  dismiss  us,  and  began  to  pay  court 
to  the  Arch  Traitor. 

"  Since  then  the  success  of  the  Usurper  in  mak- 
ing England  great,  and  the  baseness  of  some  of  the 
attempts  to  assassinate  him  (not  discouraged,  alas, 
by  some  of  our  Court)  !  have  strained  my  father's 
loyalty  to  the  utmost. 

"  But  the  sorrow  is  Walter ;  the  wrong  which 
sometimes  makes  us  ready,  in  desperation,  to  pay 
our  allegiance  anywhere  but  there  whence  the  evil 
came,  is  the  sore  change  in  him.  "We  made  some 
sacrifices  in  old  times  to  the  royal  cause.  But  what 
were  poor  Dick,  and  Robert,  and  George,  slain  on 
the  field,  or  even  Harry  laying  down  his  life  at 
Naseby,  or  even  that  precious  mother  stricken  into 
heaven  by  his  death,  compared  with  a  life  poisoned 
in  its  springs  like  Walter's  at  this  selfish  wicked 
Court  ?  All  the  fair  promise  of  his  youth  turned 
into  corruption;  bis  very  heart  slain! 

"Our  martyied  king  required  the  lives  of  our 
dearest,  and  they  were  given  willingly  for  him. 
But  this  king  takes  their  souls,  themselves,  their 
life  of  life,  not  as  a  living  sacrifice,  but  to  be 
trampled,  and  soiled,  and  crushed  in  the  dust  and 
mire  of  sin,  till  their  dear  familiar  features  are 
scarcely  to  be  distinguished  by  those  who  love 
them  best. 

"  The  gladness  of  heart  my  mother  delighted  in 
changed  into  a  fickle  irritability,  or  frozen  into 
mockery   at   all   sacred   things   human   or   div'ne, 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


27.1 


The  generous  spirit  degraded  into  meie  selfish 
lavishness,  caring  not  at  what  cost  to  others  it 
buys  its  wretched  pleasm*es. 

"  And  then  the  miserable  reactions  of  regret  and 
remorse  which  I  used  to  rejoice  in,  until  I  learned 
to  know  thev  were  the  mere  irritable  self-loathing 
of  exhausted  passion,  as  little  moral  ae  when  (at 
other  times)  the  same  irritation  turned  against  my 
father  or  me  instead  of  against  himself.  Until  at 
last  I  dare  not  profane  the  sacred  names  of  mother 
and  of  God,  by  using  them  as  a  kind  of  magic 
spell  to  unseal  the  springs  of  maudlin  sentimental 
tears.  Oh,  how  bitter  the  words  look  !  Walter, 
Walter,  my  brother  !  tenderly  committed  by  my 
mother  to  n«e,  living  in  the  house  with  us  day  by 
day,  yet  farther  off — more  out  of  reach  (it  seems) 
of  pleading  or  prayer  than  those  who  lie  on  the 
cold  slopes  of  Rowten  Heath  and  Naseby  !  Is 
there  no  weapon  in  God's  armoury  to  reach  thy 
heart  ?  Good  Mistress  G  ret  el  used  to  say  God  had 
so  many  weapons  we  knew  not  of  in  His  store- 
houses. In  mine,  alas,  there  seem  none  ;  none  ex- 
cept going  on  loving.  And  perhaps  after  all  that  is 
the  strongest  in  His. 

"  Going  on  loving.  Yes  ;  our  Lord  surely  did 
that,  docs  th.it.  When  '  He  turned  to  the  woman' 
in  Simon's  house,  it  was  not  the  first  time  He  had 
so  turned  to  her.  Not  the  first.  How  many  times 
from  the  first !  Yet  at  last  she  turned  and  came 
and  looked  on  Him.  And  she  was  forgiven,  ^nd 
in  loving  Him  a  new  fountain  of  purity  was  opened 
in  her  heart,  the  only  purity  worth  the  name,  th« 


274  0N  B0TH  S1DE&  VF  THE  SEA- 

purity  of  love;    the  purity  not  of  ice  but  of  fire. 
Yes  ;  in  Him  there  is  the  possibility  of  restoration. 

"  But,  oh,  for  these  desecrated  wasted  years,  for 
the  glory  of  the  prime  turned  into  corruption,  for 
all  that  might  have  been  and  never  can  be,  for  this 
one  irrevocable  life  ebbing,  ebbing  so  fast  away, 
for  the  terrible  possibility  of  there  being  no  resto- 
ration. For  some  looked,  and  listened,  and  longed, 
but  never  came  ! 

"May.— Barbe  came  into  my  chamber  this  morn- 
ing, weeping  and  wringing  her  hands. 

"  '  Ah,  mademoiselle  !'  she  said  ;  '  another  St. 
Bartholomew — a  second  St.  Bartholomew  !'  " 

"  '  Have  they  risen  against  the  Protestants  in 
Paris  ?'  I  said.  .  And  my  first  thought  was  of 
Walter, —  a  wild  thought,  whether  this  might  be 
the  angel's  sword  to  drive  him  back  into  the  fold. 
If  we  were  to  be  hunted  hither  and  thither,  who 
could  say  but  in  the  severe  destitution  of  some  den 
or  cave  of  refuge,  or  even  in  the  prison  of  the  In- 
quisition, sacred  old  words  might  come  back  to  him, 
and  he  might  turn  and  be  saved  ?  And  then  an- 
other flash  of  thought !  If  we  were  seized  as  Prot- 
estants, England  would  rise  ;  Cromwell,  English- 
man and  Protestant  that  he  was,  would  demand 
us  back.  We  should  no  more  be  Royalist  and 
Rebel,  bat  all  English  and  Protestant;  and  return 
to  England,  to  Netherby,  and  Walter  with  us,  and 
a  new  life  begin.  Wild  hopes,  flashing  through 
my  mind  between  my  question  and  Barbe's  answer, 
delayed,  as  it  was,  by  her  tears. 

Not  in  Paris  yet,  mademoiselle  ;    that  is  to 


U   I 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  275 

iionie.  !N"o  doubt,  the  tyrants  will  not  end  where 
they  began.  It  is  the  people  of  the  valleys — the 
Vaudois — men  of  the  religion,  before  France  knew 
what  the  religion  was.  My  mother's  kindred  came 
thence, — quiet  loyal  peasants,  tilling  their  poor 
patches  of  field  and  vineyard  among  the  savage 
mountains.  The  Duke  of  Savoy  would  have  them 
all  foreswear  the  religion  in  three  days.  They  held 
firm.  He  sei_t  six  regiments — herds  of  monsters, 
wild  beasts,  among  the  people.  They  tortured, 
killed,  wrought  horrors  I  cannot  name,  but  which 
those  faithful  men  and  women  had  to  bear.'  And 
her  sobs  choked  her  words  ;  until  by  degrees  she 
told  me  all  she  knew  of  the  dreadful  story  of  out- 
rage and  wrong. 

"  '  And  is  there  none  to  help  ?'  I  said. 

"  '  There  is  none  ; — unless  it  be  this  Mr.  Crom- 
well,' she  said,  with  a  little  hesitation,  knowing 
how  abhorred  the  name  was  amongst  us.  '  These 
poor,  exiled,  outraged  Christians  have  appealed  to 
him.' 

"  June  8. — My  father  says  all  the  world  is  ablaze 
about  this  letter  of  Mr.  John  Milton,  the  Usurper's 
Latin  secretary,  concerning  these  persecuted  exiles 
from  the  valleys.  Its  words  are  very  strong.  It 
seems  not  unlikely  the  French  Court  may  be  move  1 
to  interfere  on  their  behalf.  '  It  is  some  comfort,' 
Baid  my  father,  '  to  see  that  the  old  country  has 
a  voice  which  must  be  listened  to,  even  though 
she  speaks  through  the  mouth  of  this  murderous 
Usurper 

"  Jum  9. — My  father  came  In,  with  his  eyes  ei> 


l-]6  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

kindled  with  a  look  of  triumph  such  as  I  hai  not 
seen  in  them  for  years. 

"  '  We  must  have  a  rejoicing,  Lettice,  cost  -ohat 
it  may.  There  is  no  help  for  it,  but  an  English 
gentleman's  heart  must  be  glad  at  such  news ! 
Robert  Blake  has  been  pounding  them  right  and 
left— Pope  and  Turk,  Duke  and  bey.  The  Blakea 
of  Somersetshire — a  good  old  family :  I  knew  them 
well.  The  English  fleet  calls  at  Leghorn,  and  the 
Pope  and  his  Italians  eagerly  grant  whatever  they 
demand.  The  English  fleet  calls  at  Tunis,  demand- 
ing justice  from  the  Dey  and  his  pirates.  The  Dey 
refuses  :  Blake  batters  down  his  forts,  and  burns 
his  fleet  in  the  harbour.  The  Dey  will  not  refuse 
us  our  rights  again.  The  world  begins  to  know 
what  the  name  of  an  Englishman  means.  Already 
these  French  courtiers  practise  a  little  civility.  The 
very  rascal  boys  in  the  streets  seem  less  impu- 
dent. We  must  have  a  merry-making,  Lettice. 
What  can  we  do  ?  At  home  we  would  have  all  the 
village  to  a  feast,  set  all  the  ale-barrels  flowing,  and 
all  the  bells  in  the  country  ringing.  But  here  the 
people,  poor  halt-starved  creatures,  drink  nothing 
but  vinegar.  And  as  to  these  everlasting  bells, 
that  are  always  dropping  and  trickling,  no  one 
knows  why  ;  it  would  do  one's  heart  good  if  one 
could  wake  them  up  for  once,  and  set  them  free  all 
together,  to  burst  out  in  the  torrent  of  a  grand  old 
English  peal.  But  we  cannot.  Who  can  we  give 
a  feast  to,  Lettice  ?  One  cannot  exactly  hare  a 
Cavalier  dinner,  because  it  might  look  like  cele- 
brating the  victory  of  the  Usurper.     Yet  somebody 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE'  SEA  277 

or  other  roust  be  made  the  merrier,  thst  the  old 
country  has  done  such  a  good  stroke  of  work 
Whom  can  wc  have  ?' 

"I  could  tlink  of  no  one  but  Barbe,  her  father 
and  mother,  and  the  seven  hungry  little  brothers 
aud  sisters  she  helped  to  support.  Accordingly 
the  next  day  we  made  them  a  supper  in  honoui 
of  the  victory  over  the  Turks,  an  attention  which 
seemed  to  gratify  our  guests  much,  although  my 
father  was  not  a  little  dissatisfied  at  having  to 
entertain  guests  on  what  he  scornfully  termed 
'  broth,  vinegar,  and  sugar-plums.'  But  I  think 
to  the  end  Barbe  and  her  family  remained  in  a 
very  misty  state  of  mind  as  to  what  they  were  lo 
rejoice  about ;  and  but  for  my  father's  imperfect 
acquaintance  with  the  French  language,  I  ara 
afaid  the  closing  speech  of  Barbe's  father,  who 
was  an  old  gentleman  with  political  theories,  and 
of  a  lofty  and  florid  style  of  eloquence,  might  havo 
caused  an  explosion.     For  the  point  of  it  was : 

"  'Excellent  Monsieur  and  amiable  Mademoiselle, 
your  country  is  a  great  country  ;  though  sometimes 
to  us  Frenchmen  a  little  difficult  to  understand. 
N'o  doubt,  this  Monseigneur  Cromwell  has  not  the 
advantage  of  a  descent  as  pure  as  could  be  wished  ; 
but  he  has  the  advantage  of  making  himself  under- 
stood in  all  languages.  The  Turks  seem  to  havo 
understood  Mr.  Blake.  There  is,  also,  Mr.  Milton, 
who  writes  Latin  with  the  elegance  of  the  renowned 
Tally.  The  Duke  of  Savoy  will  have  to  understand 
him.  The  poor  exiled  Vaudois  are  to  be  restored 
to  their  valleys.  Monseigneur  Cromwell  has  iusiiited 
24 


2-8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

on  it.  He  has  also  sent  two  thousand  pounds  of  his 
own  for  their  relief,  and  your  nation  has  added  more 
than  thiity  thousand  ; — a  sum  scarcely  to  be  calcu- 
lated by  simple  people.  It  is  a  pity  Monseigneur 
should  be  out  of  the  legitimate  line  of  your  coun- 
try's kings.  But  such  changes  must  happen  at 
times  in  dynasties.  Our  own  has  changed  more 
than  once.  And,  no  doubt,  your  magnanimous  nation 
understands  her  own  affairs,  and  ere  long  will  arrange 
herself  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties.  Monsieur 
and  mademoiselle,  I  thank  you  in  the  name  of  my 
family.  Such  hospitality  is  a  proof  of  a  tender  and 
generous  heart,  worthy  of  the  great  nation  which 
has  sent  this  princely  succour  to  the  oppressed.' 

"  '  What  does  he  say,  Lettice  ?'  whispered  my 
father. 

"  '  That  England  is  a  great  nation,'  I  replied  ; 
*  and  that  it  is  a  pity  Oliver  Cromwell  was  not  of 
the  house  of  Stuart.' 

'  For  a  moment  my  father's  eyes  flashed  ;  but 
then,  shaking  his  head  compassionately,  he  only 
said  :  '  Of  course,  these  poor  foreigners  cannot  be 
expected  to  understand  our  politics.  We  must 
make  allowances,  Lettice ;  we  must  make  allow- 
ances. Every  man  cannot,  after  all,  be  born  an 
Englishman.' 

"  June  10. — The  meaning  of  Barbe's  father's  speech 
is  plain.  The  Usurper  has  sent  an  Embassy  Ex- 
traordinary to  the  French  Court  and  to  Savoy,  and 
all  the  redress  he  demands  for  the  Yaudois  is  to  be 
made.  They  are  to  be  restored  to  their  mountain 
homes,  and  protected  from  future  ill   usage.     H« 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


179 


styles  himself  '  Oliver,  Protector.'  The  poor  Vau- 
dois,  at  least,  are  likely  to  think  the  title  no'  unde- 
served. 

"June  11. — My  father  says  Roger  is  here.  If 
any  one  in  the  world  could  help  Walter,  he  might. 
Walter  has  been  terrible  lately.  His  reckless,  mock- 
ing ways  drive  my  father  wild.  He  storms  in  right- 
eous anger.  Walter  recriminates  with  cool,  reck- 
less jests.  My  father  commands  him  to  go.  Wal- 
ter goes  ;  does  not  come  back  for  days.  My  fathei 
grows  more  and  more  restless  and  wretched  during 
his  absence;  reproaches  himself;  taps  at  my  door 
at  night,  and  says  :  '  Lettice,  I  shall  never  rest  any 
more.  I  have  driven  the  lad  to  destruction.  I  will 
go  and  seek  him.'  In  a  few  hours  he  returns  with 
Walter,  destitute  and  affectionate.  He  returns  as 
a  prodigal;  but,  alas!  not  come  to  himself;  ag- 
grieved against  the  husks — against  the  beggarly 
citizens,  who  would  not  give  him  any — but  chiefly 
against  the  father,  who,  having  given  him  his  own 
portion,  refused  him  his  brother's.  And  so,  for  the 
hundredth  time,  we  welcome  him,  weep  over  him, 
make  much  of  him,  and  provide  him  with  such  best 
robes  and  portions  of  our  living  as  we  can  possibly 
spare.  And  in  a  day  or  two  he  meets  his  old  asso- 
ciates, lias  some  good-natured  message  from  the 
king,  and,  before  long,  is  drawn  off  into  the  old 
tide  of  riotous  living.  Away  from  us,  heart  and 
soul,  in  the  far  country,  where  we  at  the  old  home 
are  mere  shadows  to  him.  We  mere  shadows  to 
him  ;  and  he  the  core  of  our  hearts  to  us  ! 

u  I  feel  that  these  tender  changes  j>f  feelings  of 


/go  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE   SEA. 

my  father's,  the  very  anger  springing  from  aifection, 
and  the  affection  making  him  repent  of  his  just 
angeT  as  of  a  sin,  arc  not  good  for  Walter.  I  can- 
not help,  sometimes,  telling  him  what  sacrifices  my 
lather  makes  for  him;  how  ungrateful  and  unjust 
he  is  in  return.  But  he  merely  laughs,  and  talks  as 
if  women  were  creatures  with  quite  another  edition 
of  the  Ten  Commandments  from  men  ;  or,  some- 
times, he  says  my  Puritan  friends  have  taken  the 
spirit  out  of  me  ;  or  that  I  should  have  married, 
and  then  T  should  have  understood  the  world  a 
little,  and  had  something  else  to  do  than  to  educate 
my  brothers.  But  when  he  says  such  things  to  me, 
he  is  always,  or  often,  sorry  afterwards,  and  tries  to 
expiate  them  by  some  little  extra  gift  or  attention. 

"  And  often  my  father  also  is  vexed  rather  with 
me  than  with  Walter,  when  he  and  Walter  have 
differed.  He  seems  to  think  I  ought  in  some  way 
to  have  made  life  more  cheerful  to  them  both.  But 
this  I  know  he  does  not  mean.  Such  words  are  oidy 
as  an  inarticulate  cry  of  pain.  He  means  it  no  more 
than  he  means  what  he  says  far  oftener  and  more 
vehemently,  that  he  will  never  waste  another  groat, 
nor  hazard  a  drop  of  blood  again,  for  the  heartless, 
faithless  family  ('  Scottish  and  French  not  English,' 
saith  he,  in  his  bitterest  moments),  which  fate  hag 
Bmitten  England  with  ;  when  I  know  that,  at  the 
next  glimpse  of  a  hope  of  Restoration,  he  would 
spend  his  fortune  to  the  uttermost  farthiug,  and  his 
blood  to  the  last  drop,  to  see  the  young  king  enjoy 
his  own  again. 

"June  Vlth. — We  have  met,  Roger  and  I,  for  a 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  28i 

few  minutes,  but  those  minutes  seemed  to  have 
bridged  over  all  the  years  between,  and  it  is  as  il 
our  lives  had  been  lived  side  by  side  all  the  time 
Yet  we  said  scarcely  a  connected  sentence  that  I 
can  recall. 

"It  was  in  one  of  the  little  tumults  which  now 
and  then  arise  in  the  narrow  streets  out  of  disputes 
for  precedence. 

"  I  was  in  Madame  la  Mothe's  coach,  when  we 
met  a  coach  which  happened  to  belong  to  a  seigneur, 
whose  lands  are  close  to  Madame  la  Mothe's  in  the 
country.  Neither  of  the  coachmen  would  give 
wTay  and  back  his  horses.  It  was  a  rivalry  of  cent- 
uries. As  happens  in  so  many  contests,  the  imme- 
diate interests  of  the  chiefs  were  lost  sight  of  in  the 
vehemence  of  their  followers.  Madame  la  Mothe 
and  I  were  left  solitary  and  uneasy  in  the  coach, 
while  the  servants  contended  for  our  dignity  in  the 
street.  At  length  the  tumult  of  voices  grew  fierce, 
the  hoofs  of  the  horses  clattered  on  the  stones  as 
the  postillions  urged  them  with  a  defiant  crack  of 
their  whips,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  two  coaches  and 
their  in  mates  were  to  charge  each  other  bodily,  as 
it'  we  had  been  batteries  or  battalions. 

"'There  will  be  bloodshed,' exclaimed  Madame 
[a  Mothe,  'bloodshed  for  a  title,  for  my  title  !"  and 
pushing  open  the  doer,  she  sprang  on  the  pavement, 
and  threw  herself  among  the  combatants  with 
words  of  peace. 

"The  lady  in  the  other  coach  seeing  her  descend, 
did    the    same.     Advancing   rapidly   towards   each 
other  they  made  reverences  to  each  other. 
24* 


28z  ON  BOTH  SID EZ    OF  THE  SEA. 

"  Madame  la  Motlie  held  out  her  hands.  6  Let  at 
make  a  compromise,  madame,'  she  said;  '  we  will 
both  reaacend  one  coach  with  my  young  friend- 
Let  it  be  yours.  We  will  then  proceed  together, 
while  my  coach  retires.  Bloodshed  will  be  avoided 
The  loyal  rivalry  of  our  people  will  be  satisfied. 
Your  side  will  gain  the  victory,  but  it  will  be  in  my 
service.' 

"  The  ladies  embraced,  and  hand  in  hand  entered 
the  other  coach.  The  retainers  shouted  long  life  to 
both  the  illustrious  houses;  and  the  little  drama  was 
ending  in  a  general  embrace,  when  an  obstacle 
presented  itself  in  the  determination  of  one  of  Ma- 
dame la  Mothe's  horses,  which  absolutely  refused  to 
sacrifice  his  own  sense  of  dignity  by  retreating. 

"  The  perplexity  was  great  when  Madame  la 
Mothe,  turning  to  me,  exclaimed,  '  My  child,  you 
will  excuse  my  making  you  the  victim  of  a  slight 
ruse  de  guerre,  to  avoid  wounding  the  honour  of 
these  excellent  people.  We  will  make  it  a  question 
of  national  courtesy.'  And  having  obtained  the 
other  lady's  consent,  leaning  from  the  window,  she 
said  to  one  of  the  young  gentlemen  in  attendance, 
m  a  voice  that  all  round  might  hear :  '  See,  this 
young  lady  is  of  a  noble  English  house,  in  exile  for 
loyalty  to  the  unfortunate  king.  All  noblesse  yields 
to  noblesse  sacrificing  itself  for  royalty.  Conduct 
Mademoiselle  Davenant,  I  pray  you,  to  my  carriage, 
vnd  let  us  retire  before  her.' 

"  I  was  being  reconducted  to  Madame  la  Mothe's 
linage,  pale,  perhaps  a  little  anxious,  for  there 
view  murmurs  of  discontent  among  the  retainers  of 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  LEA.  783 

Che  acherse  company,  when  suddenly  Roger  ap- 
peared before  me,  and  in  a  moment  my  hand  was 
in  his  before  I  knew  how,  and  I  was  alone  in  the 
carriage,  slowly  advancing,  while  he  walked  beside 
the  window. 

"  '  A  friend  of  mademoiselle's  father !  Move  for- 
ward ! '  he  said  to  the  attendants,  in  slightly  broken 
French,  with  that  quiet  expectation  of  obedience 
which  always  gave  credentials  to  his  commands. 
He  was  obeyed ;  and  we  moved  slowly  on. 

" '  You  excuse  me '?'  he  said  to  me.  His  hand 
was  on  the  edge  of  the  window.  'I  heard  your 
name,  and  saw  you  looking  alaimed,  and  before  I 
had  time  to  question  my  right  to  do  it,  I  found  my- 
self taking  care  of  you.' 

"  He  said  no  more.  And  I  said  nothing.  It  was 
one  of  those  moments  which  seemed  not  to  belong 
to  the  hour  but  to  the  ages ;  because  ore  does  not 
think  of  looking  backward  or  forward  wMte  they 
last,  the  rest  they  bring  is  so  complete. 

"  But  as  we  came  to  the  end  of  the  narro  w  street, 
and  were  about  to  turn  into  a  broader  place,  there 
was  ag:iin  a  little  tumult  which  delayed  us.  Look- 
ing out,  I  saw  it  was  caused  by  a  company  of 
young  cavaliers  arrogantly  pushing  the  crowd  aside. 
Among  them  I  saw  the  faces  of  one  or  l,wo  whom  I 
recognized  as  friends  of  Walter's,  and  I  thought  1 
caught  a  glimpse  cf  Walter  himself. 

"Then  I  forgot  everything  but  Walter,  the  long- 
ing I  had  so  often  had  that  he  could  know  Roger 
and  the  possibility  of  Roger  saving  him. 

" '  Roger,'    I    said,   '  you  remember   Walter   th« 


^84  0N  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

youngest  of  us,  the  boy  my  mother  thought  so 
much  of.  Those  are  some  of  our  king's  courtiers. 
They  are  Walter's  friends.  They  are  bad  friends. 
They  are  ruining  him  for  life  and  for  ever.  I  have 
thought  sometimes  if  you  could  have  been  his 
friend,  it  might  have  been  different.' 

" '  I  will  do  all  what  I  can,  Lettice,'  he  said,  ana 
that  was  all.  But  his  '  what  I  can,'  and  hss  '  Let- 
tice,' are  volumes  that  need  no  commentary. 

"Madame  la  Mothe  re-appeared. 

"  I  introduced  Roger  as  best  I  could. 

"  She  lavished  thanks  on  him,  and  kept  him  some 
little  time  in  conversation,  while  the  men  were  set- 
ting something  right  about  the  harness. 

"  But  he  replied  only  in  monosyllables. 

"  For  some  time  after  he  had  taken  leave  we 
drove  on  in  silence. 

"  I  was  thinking  whether  I  had  done  right.  In 
committing  my  brother  to  Roger  had  I  not,  as  it 
were,  made  him  my  knight,  -set  him  forth  on  a  sa- 
cred enterprise  for  my  sake,  which  he  might  inter- 
pret into  an  atonement  for  that  terrible  deed  which 
separated  us  ? 

"  That  terrible  deed  which  all  the  blood  in  the 
world,  and  all  the  good  deeds  in  the  world  cannot 
expiate,  which  nothing  but  repentance  can  blot 
out !     And  Roger  will  never  repent. 

"  They  came  sweeping  back  on  my  heart  with 
his  voice,  all  the  old  familiar  sacred  recollections, 
my  mother's  affection  for  him,  the  touch  of  her 
hand  clasping  ours,  thf  sound  of  her  voice  blessing 
us.     And  far  away,  like  a  ghost,  at  cock-crowing, 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    )F   THE  SEA.  285 

j.,(hled  that  dreadful  scaffold.  'Politics!'  did  not 
every  one  say ;  '  what  have  women  to  do  with 
politics  ?  ' 

"  And  after  all,  what  had  Roger  to  do  with  that 
terrible  deed?  He  had  sat  near  on  horseback,  as 
a  soldier  of  Parliament,  while  it  was  done.  As 
a  s<;.diei  of  the  Parliament,  what  could  he  do  other- 
wise? As  a  man,  would  he  not  rather  have  risked 
his  life  to  save  the  royal  sufferer's  life  ?  All  the 
consequences  of  rebellion  are  involved  in  the  first 
act  of  rebellion.  War  means  life  or  death,  victory 
or  death  to  all  involved.  All  the  terrible  results 
were  unfolded  in  the  first  fatal  lifting  up  of  the 
rebel  standard  at  Edgehill ;  a  shot  might  have 
ended  His  Majesty's  life  then  as  easily  as  the  axe 
years  afterwards.  Roger's  loyalty  is  to  England, 
and,  for  her  sake,  to  whomsoever  he  believed  will 
rule  and  serve  her  best.  That  first  act  of  dislov- 
ally  once  committed,  in  the  choice  of  a  wrong 
leader,  the  more  loyal  the  character  the  more  disloyal 
must  be  the  acts  ever  after.  It  was  Roger's  fatal 
hereditary  misbelief  which  had  enlisted  him  in 
Cromwell's  army.  And  that  my  mother  knew, 
and  knowing,  had  sanctioned  his  love.  Put  once 
enlisted,  it  was  the  very  loyalty  of  heart  wlm-h 
Mould  have  led  him  to  die  with  Montrose  for  the 
king's  cause,  how  ever  hopeless,  which  had  lead  him 
thus  to  guard  the  king's  scaffold,  however  he  hated 
to  be  there.  For  I  know  he  did  hate  to  be  there  ! 
If  he  would  but  once  confess  that  his  heart  had  bled 
at  the  sight,  as  I  am  sure  it  did  !  But  I  knew  too 
well  how  that  fatal  loyalty  of  nature  wbict  had 
prevented  his  resisting  the  worst  deed  of  his  trait- 


,.86  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

orous  leader,  would  keep  his  lips  sealed  for  evei 
from  disclaiming  bis  share  in  it,  when  done. 

"  But  if  I  knew  his  heart,  ought  I  not  to  accept 
the  reverent  pity  which  I  knew  must  have  moved 
him,  and  made  his  presence  at  the  martyrdom  3 
torture  to  him,  in  place  of  any  mere  words  which  a 
heart  less  true  than  his  would  have  uttered  so 
easily  ?  Indeed,  whether  I  accepted  it  or  not,  had 
not  it  been  already  understood  and  accepted  above  ? 
As  the  mistakes  of  Port  Royal  were  understood  and 
forgiven,  and  of  Aunt  Dorothy,  and,  as  we  trust, 
our  own  mistakes  will  be. 

"  Then  came  the  thought, — 

"  '  You  are  getting  sophistical.  Right  and  vv rong 
are  right  and  wrong  for  all  and  for  ever.  If  you 
try  to  put  yourself  into  the  place,  and  feel  the 
temptations  of  every  criminal,  as  he  feels  them, 
you  will  end  in  comdemning  no  crime.' 

"  Thus  as  I  sat  silent  by  Madame  la  Mothe's  side, 
while  in  a  few  moments  all  those  arguments  rushed 
in  conflict  through  my  heart,  there  was  anything 
but  silence  within. 

"  At  last  Madame  la  Mothe  spoke.  Very  quietly 
she  laid  her  hand  on  mine,  and  without  looking  at 
me,  said, — 

"  'My  child,  forgive  me.  I  shall  never  ask  what 
your  secret  is  again,  nor  wonder  why  you  keep 
your  heart  sealed  like  the  doors  of  Port  Royal.' 

'"It  is  no  secret,  madame,'  I  said.  'We  were 
betrothed  by  my  mother's  sanction.  Only  this 
dreadful  war  has  separated  us.' 

" i  Your   young   Cavalie>'   is   not   on   the  king'j 


ON  BOTE    SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


287 


side?'  she  said.  '  It  is  a  pity.  He  has  the  man- 
ners of  the  ancient  chivalry.  Deferential  and  stately, 
his  politness  has  something  at  once  protecting  and 
lofty  in  it,  as  if  he  were  a  king,  and  all  women  as 
queens  to  him.  Alas,-  for  these  English  politics  and 
these  consciences ! ' 

" '  It  is  not  politics  that  separate  us,  madame,'  I 
said,  almost  mechanically ;  '  it  is  the  king's  death.' 

"  '  Surely  the  young  Cavalier  was  too  noble  to  bt? 
concerned  in  that ! '  she  said. 

" '  He  was  a  soldier  of  the  Commonwealth, 
madame,'  I  said,  '  and  as  a  soldier  had  to  obey.5 

"  I  found  myself  defending  him  in  spite  of  my- 
self. 

"  '  The  king's  death  was  not  the  work  of  the  sol- 
dier, was  it  ?  "  she  said,  '  but  of  the  headsman.' 

"  'The  soldiers  guarded  the  scaffold,'  I  said. 

" '  This  young  Cavalier  was  among  those  who 
guarded  the  scaffold,'  she  said.  'Was  that  all? 
Being  a  soldier,  what  would  you  have  had  him  do  ? 
Surely  there  is  absolution  on  earth  and  in  heaven 
for  such  a  mistake  as  that.' 

"  '  He  does  not  repent,  madame.' 

"  '  Ah,  my  child,'  she  said,  '  see  what  it  is  to  be  a 
l'rotestant;  you  have  to  be  your  own  Supreme 
Tribunal,  even  when  your  conscience  is  on  the 
Judgment-seat,  and  your  own  heart  at  the  bar,  to 
be  broken  by  the  sentence.  Now,  if  you  would 
only  believe  the  Pope  and  the  Church,  whatever 
the  unavoidable  pain  of  the  sentence,  you  would  at 
all  events  escape  the  torture  of  at  ence  inflicting 
and  enduring  it.' 


288  ON  BOTH   SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 

"  'Alas,  madame,'  I  said,  'can  the  sisters  of  Port 
Royal  escape  the  torture  of  being  their  own  tribu- 
nal? Can  thev  believe  a  fact  is  a  fact  because  a 
Pope  says  it  ?  They  distinguish,  indeed,  between 
fact  and  right ;  but  are  not  rights  really  but  facts 
of  a  higher  sphere,  if  we  only  knew  them  ?  And 
as  unalterable?  We  only  want  to  know  what  is 
right,  madame.  It  seems  to  me  no  decision  on 
earth,  or  in  heaven,  can  make  a  thing  right,  any 
more  than  it  makes  it  true.' 

"'My  poor  child,'  she  said  tenderly,  'heaven 
guide  you.  Only  take  care  your  heart  does  not  get 
into  the  judgment-seat,  and  persuade  your  consci- 
ence that  the  very  anguish  of  the  sentence  is  a 
proof  of  its  justice.  Noble  hearts  have  made  such 
mistakes  ere  now.  One,  I  think,  very  dear  to  thee 
and  to  me.' 

"  She  wa-j  silent  some  minutes,  and  then  said  in 
a  more  ch  erful  tone, — 

'"He  /as  silent,  this  young  Cavalier.  His  char- 
acter is   .erhaps  rather  grave  ? ' 

i4 '  It  is  a  way  of  all  the  men  of  our  nation  who 
are  worth  anything,  madame,'  I  said.  'Ycur 
countrymen  have  a  natural  eloquence.  Feeling 
enkindles  them  into  speech.  With  us  it  ofteuer 
fuses  men  into  silence.  An  Englishman  who  has  no 
dumbness  in  him  is  not  to  be  trusted.' 

"  She  smiled. 

"'Ah,  my  friend,'  she  said,  '  if  I  detend,  you 
attack;  if  I  attack,  you  defend.  I  will  leave  yov 
o  defend  your  own  cause  against  yourself.' 


Chapter  VIII. 


olive's  recollections 


i  OGER  brought  back  from  Paris  an  ao* 
count  of  the  life  led  by  the  son  of  the 
late  king  and  his  companions,  that  might 
perhaps  have  enfeebled  Aunt  Dorothy's 
prayers  foi  his  restoration,  could  she  have  believed 
it,  which,  however  (having  her  belief  much  under 
the  control  of  her  will),  she  doubtless  never  would, 
on  any  evidence  we  could  have  brought.     Of  the 
Davenants  he  said  little.     But  he  had  seen  them, 
and  from  his  tone  I  judged  that  the  intercourse  had 
done  more  to  cheer  than  to  sadden  him.     Sir  Wal- 
ter's face,  he  thought,  looked  somewhat  lined  with 
care ;  but,  as  far  as  I  could  gather,  he  saw  no  change 
in  Lettice.    To  him  she  was  the  same  he  had  parted 
from  seven  years  before,  the  same  he  had  held  in  hi? 
heart  all  the  seven  years  through. 
"  Was  she  looking  older  ?"  I  asked. 
"  In  one  way,  not  an  hour,"  he  said  ;  "  in  another 
seven  years." 
"  Paler  ?" 

He  could  not  tell ;  "  her  colour  always  came  anc 
vent  like  sunshine;  like  her  smile." 

25  (289) 


i9o  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA. 

u  As  loyal  as  ever  ?" 

"To  the  late  king,  and  to  royalty;  yes." 

"  Graver  ?" 

"  They  spoke  of  grave  things.  He  thought,  with 
all  the  old  changefulness  in  her  countenance,  the 
calm  beneath  seemed  deeper." 

"  Then  she  must  be  fairer  than  ever  ?" 

"  He  thought  not.     She  was  the  same." 

And  to  him  that  wras  evidently  the  utmost  he  de- 
sired. If  she  had  in  any  way  changed,  it  had  only 
been  as  he  had  changed,  keeping  parallel  with  him ; 
therefore  from  him  evidently  no  more  was  to  be 
learned.  Yet  something  in  his  interview  had  evi- 
dently strengthened  him,  like  a  new  dawn  of  hope. 
Sir  Walter,  no  doubt,  would  not  hear  of  alliance 
with  an  adherent  of  "  the  Usurper ;"  yet  he  accepted, 
wdth  scarcely  disguised  triumph,  the  glory  England 
had  won  under  the  Usurper.  A  little  more  experi- 
ence of  what  the  Court  of  the  young  king  was  like 
to  be;  a  little  more  proof  of  what  free  England 
could  be ;  a  little  more  of  the  hallowing  touch  of 
time,  on  the  new  Power's  new  glories ;  perhaps  the 
Title  belonging  to  the  Power,  once  boldly  claimed, 
recognized  by  the  nation ;  and  in  the  end  for  the 
sake  of  the  old  England  the  new  dynasty  might  be 
recognized. 

So  Roger  hoped ;  and  to  him,  therefore,  the  de- 
bates in  1657,  on  the  Protector's  assuming  the  title 
of  king,  had  a  twofold  interest. 

The  year  1656  closed,  and  the  year  1657  began, 
storm  ily. 

On  the  27th  of  December  my  husband  came  to 


OX  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  291 

the  house  looking  dispirited,  and,  catching  up  Mai- 
die  in  his  arms,  he  said  to  me, — 

"I  have  a  mind  to  sell  all  we  have,  and  seek  our 
fortunes  in  the  wilderness,  anions:  the  Indians." 

Then  he  told  me  the  scene  he  had  just  witnessed, 
Annis  Nye  and  Job  Forster  standing  by  whilst  he 
narrated  how  the  poor  fanatic,  James  Naylor,  hal 
stood  in  the  pillory  in  front  of  the  Exchange,  weak- 
ened by  the  terrible  scouiging  four  days  before  from 
Whitehall  to  the  Exchange,  while  his  tonmie  was 
bored  with  a  hot  iron  by  command  of  the  Parlia- 
ment "  for  blasphemy." 

"  Twenty  years  have  rolled  away,"  he  said ; 
"  countless  precious  lives  have  been  sacrificed,  a  dy- 
nasty displaced,  the  king  and  the  archbishop  execu- 
ted, the  Star  Chamber  destroyed ;  and  here  stands 
the  pillory  again  in  the  open  day,  with  fierce  fire  in 
the  hearts  of  those  in  power,  to  carry  out  a  sentence 
cruel  as  any  of  Archbishop  Laud's,  to  the  uttermost." 

"  But  the  people  ?"  I  asked. 

"  As  pitiful  as  in  the  days  when  Prynne,  .Bast- 
wick,  and  Barton  suffered  in  Palace  Yard  !  Scarce 
an  insulting  word  or  gesture.  While  the  cruel  iron 
was  at  work,  the  crowd  stood  bareheaded,  ar.d  Mr. 
Rich,  the  brave  merchant,  who  had  waited  at  the 
doors  of  the  Parliament  House  imploring  the  mem- 
bers for  mercy  from  eight  till  eleven  this  morning, 
held  the  suiferer's  hand  all  the  while,  and  afterwards 
licked  his  wounds." 

"  But  they  say  the  poor  wretch  wras  indeed  guilty 
of  blasphemy,"  I  said.  "  His  crime  was  at  least 
very  different  from  Mr.  Prynne's." 


t92  ON  BOTH  81D£8   OF   THE  SEA. 

"  It  was  indeed  mad  blasphemy,"  he  replied;  ''the 
madness  of  spiritual  vanity  veiling  itself  under  kome 
mystical  notion  that  the  homage  was  paid  to  Christ 
in  him.  The  poor  wretch  suffered  half-a-dozen  de- 
luded men  and  women  to  lead  his  horse  into  Bristol, 
Btatterinc  branches  and  garments  before  him,  and 
crying  hosannas." 

Job,  who  was  near,  could  not  let  the  occasion  pass. 

"  Take  warning,  Mistress  Annis,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice  aside  to  her ;  "  this  is  what  your  Quaker  in- 
spiration leads  to.'1 

"  I  have  need  of  warnings,  Job  Forster,"  she  re- 
plied, "  and  so  hast  thou.  This  is  what  your  tyr- 
anny over  men's  consciences  leads  to.  This  is  what 
ambition  has  led  thy  Oliver  Cromwell  to ;  once  a 
man  of  whom  George  Fox  had  hope,  and  over  whose 
soul  the  Friends  have  been  very  tender." 

"  The  Lord  Protector  protests  against  this  cru- 
elty," said  my  husband. 

"  His  work  is  not  to  protest,  Leonard  Antony," 
said  she,  "  but  to  prevent.  But  he  has  been  faith- 
fully warned.  George  Fox  hath  told  him  what  will 
come  upon  him  if  he  heeds  not;  and  George's  warn- 
ings are  not  to  be  scorned.  Before  now,  more  than 
one  who  has  despised  them  has  come  to  a  fearful 
end." 

For  once  my  husband  was  roused.  "  Annis  Nye," 
he  said,  "  you  and  your  Friends  are  as  unmerciful  in 
heart  as  the  rest.  The  voices  that  denounce  God's 
lightnings  for  their  own  private  wrongs  are  moved 
by  the  same  spirit  as  the  hands  that  heat  the  irons 
for  the  piFory.     Verily  ye  know  not  what  spirit  ye 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA  293 

are  of.   Denunciatory  prophecies  are  the  persecution 
of  the  persecuted."     And  he  turned  sadly  away. 

Aunt  Gretel  wept  many  tears  when  she  heard  the 
narrative  of  James  Naylor's  sufferings,  afterwards 
completed  by  a  second  scourging  at  Bristol,  the 
scene  of  his  mad  and  blasphemous  entry.  But  she 
reached  the  source  of  consolation  sooner  than  any  of 
us.  Looking,  according  to  her  wont,  beyond  all  the 
middle  distance  which  is  the  battle-field  of  the  great 
national  questions  of  churches  and  governments, 
and  seeing  in  the  whole  primarily  the  Good  Shep 
herd  seeking  the  sheep  and  leading  the  wandering 
flock,  she  said,  wiping  her  eyes, — 

"  Poor  foolish  creature  !  if  Annis  speaks  right,  he 
was  once  a  humble  and  devout  Christian.  He  had 
fallen  deep  and  wandered  far.  Perhaps  he  will  have 
to  thank  the  good  Lord  that  he  has  found  the  ways 
of  the  wilderness  so  cruel.  Perhaps  even  now,  if 
we  could  see,  he  is  beginning  to  creep  back,  torn, 
maimed,  and  bleeding  as  he  is,  body  and  soul,  to  the 
feet  of  the  Good  Shepherd.  Thou  wilt  not  forget 
him,  Leonard,  when  thou  visitest  the  prison." 

My  husband  did  not,  and  afterwards  brought  us 
word  how,  during  his  imprisonment  in  Bridewell, 
James  Naylor  came  to  true  repentance,  and  pub- 
lished his  confession  of  his  fall,  when  "  darkness 
came  upon  him,  and  he  ran  against  that  Rock  to  be 
broken  which  had  so  long  borne  him,  and  whereof 
he  had  so  largely  drunk,  and  of  which  at  last  he 
drank  in  measure  again,  praising  God's  mercy  in 
delivering  him,  and  greatly  fearing  ever  to  offend 
again,  whereby  the  innocent  truth,  or  the  people  of 
God  might  suffer."  "2.5* 


294  0N  B0TH  SIDES    OE    THE  SEA. 

After  that  the  poor  restored  penitent's  career  was 
brief,  but  blameless. 

Aunt  Grctel  watched  it  to  the  close  with  a  tender 
pity.  He  survived  his  fall  and  punishment  four 
years,  dying  at  the  age  of  forty-four.  And  Aunt 
Gretel  was  wont  to  keep  the  record  of  what,  he  spoke 
shortly  before  his  death  among  her  treasury  of  tro- 
phies of  the  triumph  of  God's  good  over  men's  evil. 
The  words  were  these : — 

"  There  is  a  spirit  which  I  feel  that  delights  to  do 
no  evil  nor  to  revenge  any  wrong,  but  delights  to 
endure  all  things,  and  hopes  to  enjoy  its  own  in  the 
end.  Its  hope  is  to  outlive  all  wrath  and  contention, 
and  to  weary  out  all  exaltation  and  cruelty.  If  it 
is  betrayed,  it  bears  it ;  for  its  ground  and  spring  is 
the  mercies  and  forgiveness  of  God.  Its  crown  is 
meekness,  its  life  is  everlasting  love  unfeigned ;  it 
takes  its  kingdom  with  entreaty  and  not  with  con- 
tention, and  keeps  it  by  lowliness  of  mind." 

And  two  hours  afterwards,  the  brief  journey,  so 
full  of  bewilderment  and  pain  and  rej:>entance,  was 
over.  To  a  heart  burdened  with  the  dishonour  of 
that  blasphemous  entry  into  Bristol,  the  pillory  in 
Palace  Yard  and  in  the  City  must,  I  think,  have 
been  a  dishonour  not  bitter  to  bear,  but  rather  one 
for  which  he  would  bless  God  who  suffered  him  to 
suffer  it.  Perhaps  those,  his  judges,  who  had  in 
their  memories  the  dishonour  of  issuing  and  enforc- 
ing such  a  sentence,  had  also  in  their  turn  their  sen- 
tences  to  suffer,  for  which  they  also  afterwards 
learned  to  bless  God. 

For  tire  wheel  went  quickly  round  in  those  days. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  295 

Laud  iu  the  Star  Chamber,  Prynne  in  the  pillory ; 
the  Presbyterians  and  Prynne  in  the  Parliament,  the 
archbishop  on  the  scaffold ;  Naylor  in  the  pillory  ; 
his  judges  in  the  prisons  of  the  Restoration. 

A  quarter  of  a  century  accomplished  it  all.  But 
no  one  saw  the  wheel  turning.  Each  revolution,  as 
it  came,  seemed  the  last.  For  there  was  a  pause 
between  each.  And  in  the  pause  the  people  who 
were  uppermost  looked  round  on  the  earth,  and 
shouted,  "  Now  the  Kingdom  is  come,  and  the  world 
will  stand  still ;"  while  the  people  who  were  under 
neath  looked  to  heaven,  and  sighed,  "  Will  the  years 
of  peace  never  come  ?     O  Lord,  how  long  ?" 

But  I  think  it  a  noble  trait  in  the  Quakers  that, 
accused  as  they  wei*e  on  all  sides  of  fanaticism,  and 
strong  as  the  temptation  must  have  been  to  disown 
any  connection  with  such  a  fallen  man  as  Naylor, 
nevertheless,  although  they  faithfully  rebuked  him 
in  secret,  they  generously  stood  by  him  in  his 
degradation,  and  did  not  leave  him  until  they  had 
brought  him  to  repentance,  and  tenderly  welcomed 
him  back  among  them. 

With  James  Naylor's  torturing  sentence,  the  year 
1656  closed.  The  year  165V  began  with  stratagems 
and  plots. 

Towards  morning,  on  the  night  of  the  8th  of 
January,  the  drowsy  voice  of  the  bellman,  speaking 
benedicites  on  our  home,  and  calliiiLC  us  to  "'hang  out 
our  lights,"  had  just  died  away  at  the  corner  of  the 
silent  street,  and  his  bell  was  faintly  echoing  in  tho 
distance,  mingling  with  the  dream  it  had  broken, 
when  a  call  at  tl  e  loor  aroused  us. 


Z96  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

ft  was  Job  Forster. 

His  first  words  as  my  husband  opened  tie  house, 
door  to  him  (I  listening  on  the  stairs),  were  an 
alarming  assurance  that  we  need  not  be  alarmed. 
In  a  minute  I  was  wrapped  in  my  mantle  and  beside 
Lhem. 

Job's  face  was  haggard  and  his  eyes  ringed  with 
dark  circles  of  anxiety. 

"  All  clanger  is  over !"  he  said.  "  The  assassin 
has  been  taken  after  a  hard  stru^o-le.  He  is  in  the 
Tower.  Miles  Sindercombe,  an  old  comrade  of 
mine,"  added  Job  with  a  groan,  "  one  of  those  that 
were  sentenced  with  me  at  Burford  !"  It  was  an- 
other attempt  on  the  Lord  Protector's  life.  Some 
time  since,  the  assassin  (having  received  £1,500 
from  the  baser  spirits  among  the  Royalists  for  ths 
purpose)  had  hired  a  room  at  Hammersmith,  on  the 
road  by  which  Oliver  rode  every  Saturday  to  his 
Sabbath  rest  at  Hampton  Court,  watching  for  an 
opportunity  to  murder  him.  But  in  vain.  And  at 
length  this  night  the  attempt  was  to  have  been  made 
at  Whitehall.  At  midnight  the  sentinel  had  smelt 
fire,  a  match  had  been  found  close  to  a  basket  of 
wildfire,  the  locks  of  the  doors  were  discovered  to 
have  been  picked,  and  all  prepared  for  a  conflagra- 
tion, in  the  confusion  of  which  Oliver  was  to  have 
been  assassinated.  But  it  had  been  found  out  in 
time,  the  danger  was  averted,  and  the  Protector  had 
refused  to  have  the  city  alarmed,  or  the  train-bands 
roused.  "  But,  oh !"  groaned  Job,  "  Mistress  Olive 
and  Master  Antony,  think  of  what  a  pit  I  stood  on 
the  brink!     'Mutiny  the  first  step ;'  and  the  last, 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


297 


minder.  No  doubt  the  poor  deluded  wretch  went 
down  easy  enough  after  that  first  step.  And  I  had 
taken  the  first  !" 

He  was  very  gentle  and  subdued,  and  said  noth- 
ing at  breakfast.  Not  even  Annis  Nye's  gentle 
"hope  that  the  Protector  would  take  warning  at 
last,  and  see  that  the  poor  Friends'  prophecies  had 
some  meaning  in  them,"  could  rouse  him.  He  only 
shook  his  head  and  said, — 

"  Poor  maid  !  She  has  got  to  take  her  lesson  by 
Burford  steeple  yet." 

The  excitement  in  the  city  that  day  was  great. 
It  was  one  of  the  few  occasions  which  I  remember 
in  which  a  strong  and  general  display  of  personal 
feeling  was  called  out  towards  the  Protector. 

The  Parliament  ordered  a  Thanksgiving  Day,  and 
numbers  went  to  offer  congratulations.  One  sen- 
tence of  Oliver's  reply  Roger  repeated  to  us, — 

"  If  we  will  have  peace  without  a  worm  in  it," 
said  the  Protector,  "  lay  we  foundations  in  justice 
and  righteousness." 

Roger  kept  full  of  hope  through  all.  This  danger 
of  death  to  its  head,  as  with  so  many  refractory 
families,  had  at  last  (he  thought)  roused  the  nation 
to  gratitude. 

The  offer  of  the  title  of  Kids  followed.  Ro^er 
believed  the  Protector  would  accept  it.  King  was 
a  name  dear  to  the  English  people,  who  "  love  not 
change,"  and  "  love  settlement  and  familiar  words." 
King  was  a  name  known  to  the  laws,  "honoured, 
and  bounded"  by  the  laws.  Any  other  name,  said 
the  Protector  in  comparison,  was  too  "  large  and 


298  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA. 

boundless."  The  power  he  possessed — and  on  that 
he  suffered  no  debate :  the  end  of  all  the  fightimr, 
he  said,  had  been  settlement.  A  Parliament  voting 
itself  to  sit  constantly,  and  debating  everything, 
from  the  nation's  faith  to  the  forms  of  ooverning—  - 
"'  debating  three  months  the  meaning  of  the  word 
encumbrance  " — "  committees  elected  to  fetch  men  fi  orn 
the  extremest  part  of  the  nation  to  attend  committees 
Bet  to  determine  all  things,"  Oliver  considered  would 
never  lead  to  "  settlement."  Between  this  nation 
and  general  "  topsy-turvying  "  he  had  submitted  to 
take  his  stand ;  and  there,  while  he  lived,  whether 
honoured  or  reviled,  he  would  stand,  whether  as 
King,  Protector,  or  Constable,  to  keep  the  peace  of 
the  parish ;  "  not  so  much  hoping  to  do  much  good 
as  to  prevent  imminent  evil ;"  to  "  keep  the  godly 
of  all  judgments  from  running  on  each  other;"  to 
keep  some  men  from  the  kind  of  liberty  which  con- 
sisted in  "liberty  to  pinch  other  men's  consciences;" 
to  keep  other  men  from  such  liberty  as  resulted  in 
license  or  "  orderly  confusion ;"  to  keep  all  Protest- 
ants from  ruin ;  to  keep  England  from  becoming 
"an  Aceldama."  This  the  Protector  regarded  as 
the  thing  God  had  given  him  to  do;  and  by  what- 
ever weapons,  by  whatever  title,  he  was  determined 
to  do  it ;  and  then  was  ready,  as  he  wrote  to  his 
son-in-law,  to  "  flee  away  and  be  at  rest,"  being 
meantime  lifted  above  men's  judgment  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  "  some  little  sincerity  in  him."  Roger 
said  that  the  new  work  could  have  been  better  done 
under  the  old  names;  so  much  necessary  change  in 
substance  beiug  made  more  acceptable  to  the  coin- 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


299 


mon  people  by  the  least  possible  change  in  forms 
(the  principle,  according  to  Aunt  Gretel,  on  which 
Luther  had  carried  out  his  Reformation).  And  so, 
he  believed,  thought  the  Protector.  But  his  son-in- 
law,  Fleetwood,  and  so  many  of  the  best  men  around 
him,  either  considered  the  very  name  of  king  doomed 
with  the  dynasty  which  had  abused  it,  or  valued 
the  forms  of  a  republic  as  of  the  essence  of  liberty — 
that  his  Highness  yielded  what  to  him  would  indeed 
have  been  nothing  more  than  a  "  feather  in  a  man's 
cap ;"  an  adornment  at  no  time  sacred  or  precious 
to  Puritan  men  for  its  own  sake. 

Thus  the  debate  on  the  kingly  title  ended  in  the 
solemn  inauguration  of  Oliver  as  Lord  Protector. 

It  was  on  the  25th  of  June,  in  Westminster  Hall, 
that  the  last  great  ceremonial  of  the  Commonwealth, 
except  the  Great  Funerals,  took  place.  The  old 
stone  of  the  Scotch  kingdom,  the  purple  robe,  the 
canopy  of  state,  the  sword,  the  Bible,  the  sceptre 
given  by  the  Speaker  of  the  Commons  to  be  "  the 
stay  and  staff"  of  the  nation,"  into  the  hands  that, 
as  we  believed,  had  been  their  stay  and  staff  so 
long ;  the  foreign  ambassadors  of  all  nations  around 
him,  they  at  least,  recognizing  him  openly  as  Eng- 
land's ruler  and  deliverer  ;  and,  outside,  the  multi- 
tudes shouting  "  God  save  the  Lml  Protector,"— 
the  hearts  of  all  men  still  aglow  with  the  news  of 
the  great  victory  of  Blake  over  the  Spaniards  in  the 
harbour  of  Santa  Cruz,  in  Teneriffe. 

There  was  no  lack  of  enthusiasm  ;  nor,  indeed, 
of  colour  and  music.  Some  picture  our  Puvitan 
times  as  draped  in   funereal  black.     The  Puritan 


3°o 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF    THE  SEA. 


ministers  had  a  very  different  impression  of  them 
as  they  hemoaned  the  glory  and  hravery  of  their 
people's  attire  ;  and  Mistress  Hutchinson's  colonel, 
in  "  bis  scarlet  cloak,  richly  laced,"  was  not  solitary 
in  his  splendour. 

Music  graced  all  the  Protector's  festivals.  It 
was,  I  think,  to  him,  as  to  Martin  Luther,  the  festive 
thing  in  the  world.  And  the  music  of  lofty  and 
significant  words  Avas  not  wanting  in  the  Speaker's 
address,  or  in  the  solemn  prayer  which  folloAved. 

Nevertheless  there  were  not  a  few  who,  with  our 
friend  Dr.  Rich,  could  not  forget  what  the  last  great 
scene  in  Westminster  Hall  had  been,  when  a  king 
discrowned  sat  at  the  bar  of  his  subjects,  alone,  yet 
defying  their  authority.  And  among  such  it  was 
murmured  ominously  that  there  was  one  thing  even 
the  "  murderers  of  his  sacred  majesty  "  did  not  dare 
to  take ;  the  crown  which  had  fallen  from  the 
"  anointed  "  head. 

So  the  grand  ceremonial  ended,  and  all  men  went 
again  to  their  work ;  the  Protector  to  protect  Eng- 
land and  the  Protestant  Church  against  the  world ; 
the  Parliament  (as  he  hoped)  to  reform  laws, "  man- 
ners," and  especially  the  Court  of  Chancery,—"  the 
delays  in  suits,"  the  excessiveness  in  fees,  the  cost- 
liness of  suits, — to  see  that  "  men  were  not  hanged 
for  six  and  eight-pence,  and  acquitted  for  murder." 

And  we  to  our  humble  work,  each  in  his  place. 
My  husband  went  to  his  patients  and  his  prisons. 
Roger,  strong  in  trust  in  the  Protector,  and  in  hope 
for  England,  joined  the  troops  which  were  fighting 
the  Spaniards  with  those  of  Marshal  Taieuue  in 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  jqi 

Flanders  My  father,  on  the  verge  of  seventy,  had 
withdrawn  altogether  from  politics.  Having  as 
firm  a  faith  in  the  triumph  of  truth  as  Roger,  he 
yet  deemed  the  cycles  wider  in  which  she  moved. 
Love  with  him  was  the  reverse  of  blind.  It  was 
natural  to  him  to  see  with  painful  clearness  the 
faults  of  the  cause  dearest  to  him.  Much  as  in 
many  ways  he  honoured  the  Protector,  he  never- 
theless deemed  his  government  a  beneficent  despot- 
ism undermining  the  foundations  of  law.  "  Had 
the  Protector  been  immortal,"  he  said,  "  a  better 
government  than  his  could  scarce  be.  But  Laws 
and  Constitutions  are  remedies  against  the  mortality 
of  all  men,  as  wTell  as  against  the  fallibility  of  the 
best  men.  Therefore  I  cannot  rejoice  in  a  rule 
which  interposes  but  the  heart  and  brain  of  one 
man  between  the  nation  and  anarchy." 

So  he  turned  therefore  from  the  whirlwind  of 
political  affairs  to  the  calm  rule  of  law  in  stars  and 
seas  ;  and  the  wonderful  circulation  of  life  through 
all  the  animated  world,  as,  according  to  Mr.  Har- 
vey's discovery,  through  the  veins  of  those  fearfully 
made  bodies  of  ours.  Through  him  we  heard  much 
of  the  proceedings  of  the  Society  of  Art,  and  of 
Buch  patriotic  efforts  as  the  rescue  of  Raphael's  car- 
toons, by  the  Protector's  desire.  In  promoting  such 
works  he  hoped  to  serve  England  (he  said)  as  an 
old  man  best  might. 

For  if  there  were  an  idolatry  among  us  in  (hose 
Commonwealth  days,  it  was  that  of  England. 

Patriotism  with  the  nobler  Commonwealth'  men 
was  a  passion  and  a  religion  ;  what  love  is  to  » 
26 


3J2 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA 


lover,  and  loyalty  to  such  a  Royalist  as  Mont* 
rose. 

It  was  England  for  whose  sake  Cromwell  waa 
content  to  be  called  a  hypocrite  and  a  despot,  and 
to  be  a  "  constable,"  and  a  man  worn  to  old  ago  at 
fifty  with  care  and  toil. 

It  was  the  love  of  England  which  kindled  the 
calm  heart  of  the  glorious  blind  poet,  who  then 
dwelt  among  men,  to  a  fanaticism  of  passionate 
invective  against  all  who  assailed  her. 

To  him  she  was  "  a  noble  and  puissant  nation 
rousing  herself  like  a  strong  man  after  sleep,  and 
shaking  her  invincible  locks  ;  as  an  eagle  renewing 
her  mighty  youth,  and  kindling  her  undazzled  eyes 
at  the  full  midday  beam,  purging  and  unsealing  her 
long-abused  sight  at  the  fountain  itself  of  heavenly 
radiance  ;  while  the  whole  noise  of  timorous  and 
flocking  birds,  with  those  also  that  love  the  twi- 
light, flutter  about,  amazed  at  what  she  means." 

"  Thou,  therefore,"  he  wrote,  "  that  sittest  in  light 
and  glory  inapproachable,  Parent  of  angels  and  men. 
Next,  Thee  I  implore,  omnipotent  King,  Redeemer 
of  that  lost  remnant  whose  nature  Thou  didst  as- 
sume ;  ineffable,  and  everlasting  Love  !  And  Thou 
the  third  subsistence  of  Divine  Infinitude,  illumin- 
ing Spirit,  the  joy  and  solace  of  created  things  1 
one  tri-personal  Godhead  ! 

"  O  Thou  that,  after  the  impetuous  rage  of  five 
blustering  inundations,  and  the  succeeding  sword 
of  intestine  war,  soaking  the  land  in  her  own  gore, 
didst  pity  the  sad  and  ceaseless  revolution  of  our 
ew  ift   and  thick-coming   sorrows ;    when  we   were 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  303 

quite  breathless,  of  Thy  free  grace  didst  motion 
peace  and  terms  of  covenant  with  us,  and  having 
first  well-nigh  freed  us  from  antichristian  thraldom, 
didst  build  up  this  Thy  Britannic  Empire  to  a  glo- 
rious and  enviable  height,  with  all  her  daughter- 
islands  about  her  ;  stay  us  in  this  felicity  ;  let  not 
the  obstinacy  of  our  half-obedience  and  will-wor- 
ship bring  forth  the  viper  of  sedition,  ....  that  we 
may  still  remember  in  our  solemn  thanksgivings 
how  for  us  the  Northern  Ocean,  even  to  the  frozen 
Thule,  was  scattered  with  the  proud  shipwrecks  of 
the  Spanish  Armada,  and  the  very  maw  of  hell  ran- 
sacked, and  made  to  give  up  her  concealed  destruc- 
tion, ere  she  could  vent  it  in  that  terrible  and  damned 
blast.  Hitherto  Thou  hast  but  freed  us,  and  that 
not  fully,  from  the  unjust  and  tyrannous  claim  of 
Thy  foes  ;  now  unite  us  entirely,  and  appropriate 
us  to  Thyself;  tie  us  everlastingly  in  willing  hom- 
age to  the  prerogatives  of  Thy  eternal  throne. 

"  Then,  amidst  the  hymns  and  hallelujahs  of 
saints,  some  one  may,  perhaps,  be  heard  offering 
in  high  strains,  in  new  and  lofty  measure,  to  sing 
and  celebrate  Thy  divine  mercies  and  marvellous 
judgments  in  this  land  throughout  all  ages ;  where- 
by this  great  and  warlike  nation,  instructed  and 
inured  to  the  fervent  and  continual  practice  of 
truth  and  righteousness,  and  casting  far  from  her 
the  rags  of  her  whole  vices,  may  press  on  hard  to 
that  high  and  happy  emulation,  to  be  found  the 
soberest,  wisest,  and  most  Christian  people  at  that 
day,  when  Thou,  the  eternal  and  shortly-e.vpected 
King,  shalt  open  the  clouds  to  judge  the  several 


304  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SLA. 

kingdoms  of  the  world,  and,  distributing  national 
honours  to  religious  and  just  commonwealths,  shalt 
put  an  end  to  all  earthly  tyrannies,  proclaiming 
Thy  universal  and  mild  monarchy  through  heaven 
and  earth,  where  they,  undoubtedly,  that,  by  their 
labours,  counsels,  and  prayers,  have  been  earnest 
for  the  common  good  of  religion  and  their  country, 
shall  receive,  above  the  inferior  orders  of  the  blessed, 
the  regal  addition  of  principalities,  legions,  and 
thrones,  unto  their  glorious  titles,  and,  in  super- 
eminence  of  beatific  vision,  shall  clasp  inseparable 
hands  with  joy  and  bliss,  in  over-measure  for  ever  P 

This  was  what  ambition  meant,  and  titles  and 
crowns,  to  the  nobler  Puritan  men  in  the  days  of 
the  great  Commonwealth.  This  was  what  England 
meant,  and  patriotism.  This  was  what  made  it  so 
bitter  to  them  to  see  sedition  undermininsr  all  this 
glorious  possibility ;  to  see  feeble  meddling  hands 
untwistino;  the  cordage  with  which  the  srood  old 
ship  had  to  be  worked  through  battle  and  storm  ; 
so  unutterably  bitter  to  see  good  men  blindly  (as 
they  believed)  helping  bad  men  to  undo  that  glo- 
rious past,  and  render  that  glorious  future,  if  not 
impossible  for  the  world  for  ever,  impossible  for 
ages  longer ;  and  for  England  perhaps  impossible 
for  evermore. 

"For  if  it  should  fall  out  otherwise  —  if  you 
should  basely  relinquish  the  path  of  virtue,  if  you 
do  anything  unworthy  of  yourselves — posterity  will 
sit  in  judgment  on  your  conduct.  They  will  see 
that  the  foundations  were  well  laid ;  that  the  be- 
ginning— nay,  it  was  more  than  a  beginning-  -wa? 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


3°!> 


glorious  ;  but  with  deep  emotions  of  concern  will 
they  regret  that  they  were  wanting  who  might 
have  completed  the  structure.  They  will  see  that 
there  was  a  rich  harvest  of  glory,  and  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  greatest  acnievements ;  but  that  men 
only  were  wanting  for  the  execution,  while  they 
were  not  wanting  who  could  rightly  counsel,  ex- 
hort, enforce,  and  bind  an  unfading  wreath  of 
praise  around  the  brows  of  the  illustrious  actors 
in  so  glorious  a  scene." 

So  he  wrote  whose  hand  could  best  have  bound 
the  unfading  wreath  of  praise,  whose  vision,  as  he 
dwelt  under  the  hallowing  "  shadow  of  God' 3  wing," 
became  prophetic. 

But,  meantime,  Roger  and  the  brave  "  labouring 
men  "  around  him,  who  reached  not  to  those  clear 
prophetic  heights,  toiled  cheerily  on,  not  seeing  the 
chasm  which  yawned  between  them  and  the  glo- 
rious goal  they  deemed  so  near. 


lettice's  diary. 


"January,  1658. — For  a  twelvemonth  now  my 
father  and  I  have  been  alone.  The  usurper  de- 
manded the  banishment  of  our  king  from  France, 
and  Mazarin  and  the  French  Court  submitted  to 
the  indignity ;  an  indignity,  it  seems  to  us,  to  all 
courts  and  all  kings. 

"  Walter  accompanied  the  king  to  Bruges,  and 
has  scarce  written  to  us  since.  My  father  and  I 
6eldom  mention  him  to  each  other,  but  I  know  he 
is  seldom  absent  from  the  thoughts  of  either  of  us. 
The  only  things  which  seem  to  interest  my  father 
26* 


3o6  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

now  are  the  movements  of  our  exiled  Court,  which 
he  watches  with  a  feverish  solicitude,  and  the  tri- 
umphs of  the  English  arms  by  land  and  sea,  of 
which  he  eagerly  learns  every  detail  with  a  mixture 
cf  patriotic  pride  and  loyal  indignation  which  it 
moves  me  much  to  see. 

"  Last  May,  for  instance,  he  told  me  how  the 
French  King  Louis  had  come  back  from  reviewing 
the  united  French  and  English  troops  at  Boulogne, 
and  how  the  French  soldiers  and  courtiers  could 
not  say  enough  of  the  soldierly  bearing  of  those 
English  horsemen  and  pikemen. 

"  Roger  saw  Walter  before  he  left  France,  and 
my  father.     But  I  did  not  see  him  again. 

"  It  was  from  Walter  I  learned  of  their  inter- 
view. 

"  '  An  act  of  sisterly  loving-kindness,  Lettice,' 
said  he,  '  to  turn  a  Puritan  battery  on  your 
brother  ! ' 

"  His  tone  was  light,  but  not  bitter,  and  he  went 
on  in  a  softened  voice. 

"  '  He  has  a  princely  temper,  Lettice,  and  bore 
from  me  what  I  would  not  bear  from  the  kinsx. 
But  all  the  time  he  made  me  feel  I  lowered  myself 
and  not  him  by  my  words.  "Tis  a  thousand  pities, 
Lettice,  those  gentlemen  keep  us  out  of  house  and 
home.  I  might  have  been  worth  something  at  old 
Netherby  with  Roger  Drayton  for  a  neighbor.  But 
what  is  a  fellow  to  do  who  has  no  choice  but  to 
amuse  himself  or  kill  himself?  And  to  throw  one- 
self against  Oliver  and  his  England  is  nothing  less 
than  suicide.     Oliver  is  responsible,  at  all  events, 


ON  BOTH    SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 


307 


for  the  mischiefs  idleness  has  wrought  among  loyal 
men.  Do  you  know,  Lettice,'  he  continued,  affec- 
tionately, after  a  pause,  '  who  manages  the  old 
estates  for  us,  and  sends  us  their  rents  so  regu- 
larly ?' 

"  '  I  guessed,'  I  said. 

"  '  T  had  been  told,'  he  replied,  '  and  I  asked 
Roger,  and  he  could  not  deny  it.  He  and  Mr. 
Drayton  manage  the  estate  as  if  they  were  our 
hired  bailiffs.  Roger  himself  paid  the  fine  to  the 
Parliament.  But  he  made  me  promise  never  to  let 
my  father  know.' 

"  I  did  not  answer  him.     My  heart  was  too  full. 

" '  Lettice,'  he  exclaimed, '  you  are  a  brave  maiden, 
and  a  good  sister  to  me.  Forgive  me  if  ever  I  said 
anything  ungenerous  to  you.  I  would  not  care  to 
own  for  a  sister  the  woman  whom  Roger  Drayton 
loved,  if  she  could  forget  him  for  another.  He  is 
the  kind  of  s;ood  man  it  would  be  worth  while  to 
be  like.  If  it  were  not  too  late — altogether  too 
late  for  me,'  he  added,  despondingly. 

"  '  You  know  it  is  never  too  late,'  I  said.  '  Oh, 
Walter,  that  is  just  what  you  might  have  been  ! 
So  my  mother  thought.' 

"  '  You  cannot  say  might  be,  Lettice,'  he  replied ; 
'not  even  with  Roger  Drayton  always  by  my  side.' 

"  '  No  one  can  be  like  Roger,'  I  said,  '  who  can 
only  be  like  him  with  some  one  always  by  his  side.' 

"  *  No,'  he  replied,  bitterly  ;  '  Roger  is  a  man  to 
be  leant  on,  not  to  lean.' 

"  '  He  is  a  man  to  be  leant  on,'  I  said,  '  because 
he  does  lean.     On  One  a.ways  by  his  side,  Walter 


3c8  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

the  only  One  who  can  be  always  witli  any  of  us. 
the  only  One  we  can  depend  on  always,  and  not 
firrow  weak,  but  strong  in  depending.' 

"  lie  said  no  more,  but  sat  in  silence  some  time, 
which  seemed  to  me  more  like  what  I  lono;ed  for  in 
hin  than  anything  I  had  seen.  And  in  tbe  evening 
he  took  leave  of  me  with  the  old  kind  way  he  had 
af^er  our  mother  died.  And  for  some  weeks  he 
ws  much  with  us. 

"  But  soon  after,  the  king  was  desired  to  quit 
Fiance,  and  Walter  would  accompany  him.  It 
w<  >uld  be  base,  he  said,  to  desert  his  master  when 
these  perfidious  Courts  and  all  the  world  aban- 
doned him.  My  father  could  but  faintly  remon- 
strate. I  ventured  to  ask  if  he  was  strong  enough 
to  go  into  that  temptation.      But    he    answered, 

gaily,— 

"  '  We  shall  have  work  to  do,  Lettice.  There  is 
promise  of  fighting.  The  Spaniard  is  to  help  us, 
and  we  him  ;  and  together  we  will  bear  you  back 
to  Netherby  in  triumph,  proclaim  amnesties  and 
tolerations  without  bounds,  and  bring  back  the 
golden  age.' 

"  But  there  has  been  no  fighting  ;  and  since  he 
left  we  have  scarce  once  heard  from  him.  And  we 
know  tor  well  what  that  means,  in  a  company  where 
nothing  good  or  great  is  really  believed  in  ;  neither 
in  Go  3,  nor  man,  nor  woman. 

"  February. — M.  la  Mothe  is  dead.  And  Madame, 
when  she  has  arranged  his  affairs,  has  determined 
to  retire  to  a  convent,  there  to  pray  for  his  soui 
and  to  accomplish  her  own  salvation. 


OX  BO  Til  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 


3^9 


"  She  is  somewhat  distracted  what  Or  dei  to  join. 
The  ladies  of  Port  Royal  seem  to  her  tht  holiest 
people  in  the  world.  Bnt,  at  the  same  time,  the 
condemnation  pronounced  by  the  Pope  on  this  b^ok 
of  Jansenins,  which  they  regard  as  so  excellent, 
perplexes  her, 

"  Two  years  ago  the  world  of  Paris  was  set  in  a 
blaze  by  the  '  Lettres  Provinciales '  of  M.  Blaise 
Pascal,  in  reply  to  the  Jesuits ;  and  by  the  attack 
on  Jansenius  and  Port  Royal.  These  letters  were 
said  to  combine  the  eloquence  and  wit  of  the  most 
finished  man  of  the  world  with  the  devotion  of  a 
saint. 

"  Since  then  the  war  has  waxed  fiercer  and  fiercer 
between  the  Jansenists  and  the  Jesuits.  To  a  Prot- 
estant the  controversy  seems  strange.  Both  parties 
eeem  to  agree  that  the  Pope  can  pronounce  autho- 
ritively  as  to  doctrine.  But  the  offence  of  the  Jan- 
senists appears  to  be  that  they  deny  his  power  to 
create  facts. 

"  But  whatever  the  hinge  of  the  controversy  is 
(and  in  most  controversies  how  insignificant  the 
hinge  is  on  which  all  nominally  turns),  the  com- 
batants seem  to  me  to  be  divided  by  very  real  dis- 
tinctions. I  judge  chiefly  from  their  weapons. 
The  weapons  of  the  Jesuits  seem  to  be  assertions, 
anathemas,  and  prisons  ;  those  of  Port  Royal  elo- 
quent words,  and  a  most  devout  and  blameless 
life. 

"  Truth  seems  as  sacred  to  them  in  its  minutest 
expression  as  the  noblest  of  the  Puritans.  They 
cannot  lie.      They   can   be   banished,   imprisoned: 


3io  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF   Tl  E  SEA. 

they  :;an  die,  if  such  is  the  will  of  God,  wl  i>  love-* 
them,  and  of  those  who  hate  them.  But  they  can- 
not solemnly  declare  before  Him,  they  believe  a 
thing  true  which  they  believe  to  be  false.  '  Wbero 
is  the  Christian,'  Jacqueline  Pascal  wrote,  '  who 
would  not  abhor  himself,  if  it  were  possible  for  him 
to  have  been  present  in  Pilate's  council ;  and  if,  when 
the  question  of  condemning  our  Saviour  to  death 
arose,  he  had  been  content  with  an  ambiguous  way 
of  pronouncing  his  opinion  so  that  he  might  appear 
to  agree  with  those  who  condemned  his  Master, 
though  his  words,  in  their  literal  meaning,  and 
according  to  his  own  conscience,  tended  to  an  ac- 
quittal ?  M.  de  St.  Cyran  says  the  least  truth  ot 
religion  ought  to  be  as  faithfully  defended  as  Christ 
Himself.  The  feebleness  of  our  influence  does  not 
lessen  our  guilt  if  we  use  that  influence  against  the 
truth.  Truth  is  the  only  real  liberator,  and  she 
makes  none  free  but  those  that  strike  off  her  own 
fetters,  who  bear  witness  to  her  with  a  fidelity  that 
entitles  them  to  be  acknowledged  as  the  true  chil- 
dren of  God  the  true.  Poverty,  dispersion,  im- 
prisonment, death,  these  seem  to  me  nothing  com- 
pared with  the  anguish  of  my  whole  future  life,  if 
I  should  be  wretched  enough  to  make  a  le<igue  with 
death.' 

"  Noble  Catholic  Puritan  woman  ! 

"  Nevertheless  Jacqueline  Pascal's  regulations  for 
the  little  orphan  girls  whom  they  charitably  train 
at  Port  Royal  freeze  my  heart  even  to  read.  Th« 
poor  little  ones  are  to  abstain  from  all  kissing  ol 
caressing  each  other.     Even  in  their  jealouslj  U*n- 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


511 


ited  hour  of  recreation,  they  are  to  play,  each  aione, 
without  noise  ! 

"And  Thou  lias  been  on  earth,  O  Christ,  tender 
and  gracious,  folding  the  little  ones  in  Thine  arms, 
and  these  holy  sisters  of  Port  Royal  love  Thee,  and 
read  the  gospel  of  Thy  birth  and  death,  and  think 
this  is  what  pleases  Thee  !     • 

"  The  world  was  made  by  Thee,  and  the  world 
•knew  Thee  not.  Alas,  the  Church  which  was  made 
and  redeemed  by  Thee,  does  she  also  know  Thee  so 
little ! 

"  What  a  surprise,  what  a  rapture  of  surprise, 
when  these  Thy  servants  who,  seeing  Thee  so  dimly, 
love  Thee  so  much,  wake  up  and  see  Thee  as  Thou 
art,  as  (if  they  could  but  see  it)  Thou  art  now  ! 

'■'■June  1658. — Dunkirk  has  been  taken  from  the 
Spaniards  (chiefly  they  say  by  English  troops),  and 
has  been  given  over  to  an  English  garrison.  At 
last  (my  father  writes),  the  blot  of  the  loss  of  Calais 
is  wiped  out  of  the  escutcheon  of  our  country.  All 
through  those  last  months  he  had  been  watching 
the  movements  of  the  French  and  English  forces 
with  jealous  interest.  '  That  crafty  Italian,'  he 
said,  '  (Mazarin)  would  overreach  the  usurper  yet. 
The  French  Court  would  use  the  help  of  England 
as  long  as  they  needed  it,  and  as  long  as  they  could 
pay  with  fair  and  flattering  words.  And  when  the 
time  came  to  pay  in  fortunes  and  solid  territory, 
they  would  politely  bow  Cromwell  and  his  pikemen 
out  of  the  country.' 

•'But  when  we  heard  that  the  ' Protector '  had 
listed  on    some  of  the  fruits  of  the  war  being 


5 12  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

made  over  to  England,  and  that  the  united  armies 
weie  on  the  Flemish  coast  preparing  for  an  attack 
on  Dunkirk,  my  father's  faith  in  th«  courage  of  our 
countrymen  entirely  got  the  better  of  his  indigna- 
tion against  their  politics  ;  and  he  found  several 
unanswerable  reasons  for  being  present  at  the  seat 
of  war. 

"  June. — Barbe  came  to  me  to-day  in  tears.  Sad 
news  had  come  again  from  her  kindred  in  the  Pied- 
mont Valleys.  Protestant  surgeons  forbidden  to 
live  there ;  trade  prohibited  ;  public  worship  sup- 
pressed ;  a  new  fortress,  from  which  insolent  troops 
sally  to  plunder  and  maltreat  the  people ;  com 
manda  to  sell  lands ;  dim  rumours  of  a  second 
massacre. 

" '  And  Monseigneur  Cromwell,'  she  said, '  so  busy 
with  his  wars  and  sieges,  that  there  can  be  little 
hope  he  will  have  leisure  to  remember  those  poor 
forsaken  ones  !  What  hope  is  there  ?  For  beside 
the  English,  these  sufierers  have  no  friend  or  pro- 
tector in  the  world.' 

"  July  3rd. — My  father  has  returned. 

"  '  It  was  worth  while  to  travel  round  the  world,' 
he  said,  '  truly,  to  hear  the  shout  of  the  English 
pikemen  before  the  fight.  Marshal  TurenLe  could 
not  say  enough  of  their  soldierly  bearing.  He  asked 
what  that  shout  meant,  and  he  was  told,  "  They 
ever  rejoice  thus  when  they  behold  the  enemy." 
And  to  see  the  Spanish  veterans  driven  back  before 
them  from  post  after  post,  on  the  sandy  dunes  by 
the  sea,  was  a  sight  to  make  an  old  man  young 
For  the  old  country  is  young,  Lettice,  as  young  as 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


3*3 


when  she  stood  up  alone  against  old  Spain  and  her 
Armada  !  I  would  the  Duke  of  York  had  not  been 
on  the  Spaniard's  side.  He  seemed  as  out  of  place 
as  Conde.  I  scarce  know  the  cause,'  he  adder* 
gloomily,  '  which  saves  a  man  from  being  a  trait,. 
in  fiijhtinsy  against  his  country.' 

"  '  Then  Walter  was  not  there  ?'  I  asked. 

"  His  brow  darkened. 

"  '  Would  to  heaven  he  had  been  there,  on  acr 
side  !'  he  answered  fiercely.     '  Better  fight  for  an" 
cause  than  fiidit  or  work  for  none,  but  lead  a  ;lu£ 
gard's  life,  a  Court-jester's,  a  Fool's,  with  the  re- 
creant idlers  around  the  king.' 

"  He  was  silent  for  some  minutes,  going  to  ths 
window  and  watching  the  melancholy  dropping  o' 
the  water  from  the  urn  of  his  old  enemy,  the  mosr 
green  nymph. 

""Then  he  turned  and  said  hastilv, — 

"  '  Drayton  has  found  his  service  better  rewarded 
than  mine.  Not  a  gentleman  in  England  or  France 
but  might  be  proud  of  such  a  son  as  his.  Firm  as 
a  rock,  and  as  calm,  who  could  smess  the  dash  and 
fire  that  are  in  him,  mless  they  saw  him  head  z 
charge,  as  I  did  ?  'Tis  a  labyrinth  of  a  world,  Let- 
tice,'  he  added,  '  and  sometimes  a  man  is  tempted 
Co  throw  down  the  clue  in  despair,  and  let  the  Fates 
take  him  and  his  where  they  will.  Old  Will  Shak 
speare  saw  to  the  bottom  of  it  all  a  hundred  yeans 
ago,  "  an  unsubstantial  pageant,  the  baseless  fabric 
of  a  vision."  Shakspeare  and  the  Bible  !  There  is 
nothing  else  worth  reading  or  thinking  of 

"  Then  Roger  was  there;  and  has  come  out  of 
27 


Ji4 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   0?  THE  SEA. 


ttie  battle  unscathed  !     Otherwise  my  father  would 
have  told  me. 

"  But  I  know  not  whether  they  met  or  no. 

**  July  4.- — I  told  my  father  of  Barhe's  sad  tidings 
of  the  Vaudois. 

" '  That  will  all  be  set  right,  you  may  feel  sure,' 
he  replied,  grimly.  '  There  was  talk  enough  about 
it  in  the  midst  of  all  the  fighting.  There  is  nothing 
that  this  base  and  cringing  court  will  not  do  to 
court  the  alliance  of  that  Traitor.  I  laugh  when 
I  hear  these  French  courtiers  talk  of  their  ancient 
nobility,  and  the  glory  of  their  Royal  House.  Our 
kings  and  princes,  cousins  by  blood  of  their  own, 
may  creep  about  as  beggars  and  outcasts  in  any 
poor  trading  town  that  is  not  afraid  to  take  them 
But  when  "  my  lord  Fauconbridge  "  comes  as  "  am- 
bassador "  from  this  brewer  of  Huntingdon,  Louis, 
the  glorious  monarch,  descendant  of  a  line  of  glo- 
rious monarchs  (up  to  Nimrod,  for  what  I  know), 
talks  to  him  bareheaded  ;  and  Mazarin,  the  Car- 
dinal, conducts  the  rebel  and  heretic  to  his  door 
with  more  than  royal  honours.  I  am  sick  of  the 
whole  hollow  pageant,  kings,  statesmen,  church- 
men, all.' 

"  My  father's  indignation  had  led  him  far  from 
Barbe  and  the  Vaudois. 

"  '  But  I  may  tell  Barbe  the  poor  mountaineers 
will  be  saved  ?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Yes,  yes  !'  he  said  impatiently.  '  There  was 
a  Latin  letter  about  the  oppression  of  these  people, 
written,  they  say,  by  this  Mr.  John  Milton,  whom 
foreigners  seem  to  think  another  Cicero  or  Yirgil, 


ON    BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  ShA.  315 

Che  "  wisest  of  Englishmen,"  and  what  net ;  why 
I  know  not,  except  that  he  writes  good  Latin,  and 
they  cannot  read  English,  so  that  of  course  they 
cannot  know  anything  about  the  wisdom  of  Eng- 
lishmen. And  the  king  was  all  attention,  and  the 
fox  of  a  Cardinal  all  sympathy  with  those  poor 
plucked  geese,  of  whose  fate  he  was  (of  course)  in 
entire  ignorance.  And  the  Duke  of  Savoy  is  to 
have  an  exhortation  ;  and  the  massacre  is  to  be  for- 
bidden.' 

"  But  Barbe  when  1  told  ber  was  altogether  over- 
come. She  hurst  into  tears,  and  clasping  her  hands, 
exclaimed, — 

"  '  To  our  dying  day  we  will  pray  for  the  great 
heart  that  in  the  midst  of  wars  by  sea  or  land  could 
remember  those  few  poor  persecuted  brothers  in  the 
far-off  mountains,  and  would  not  rest  until  they 
were  rescued.  To  our  dying  day  we  will  pray  for 
him  and  for  the  great  English  nation.  Mademoiselle 
will  pardon,  if  I  wound  her  loyal  feelings,1  she 
added,  remembering  what  the  name  of  Cromwell  was 
to  the  Cavaliers,  and  kneeling  for  a  moment  and 
kissing  my  hand  in  apology  ;  '  English  politics  are 
so  difficult  for  us  to  understand.  To  you  this  Mon- 
eeigneur  may  be  such  as  you  cannot  approve,  but 
to  us  poor  Protestants,  he  is  a  Protector,  Deliverer, 
Brother.     Can  we  err  in  praying  for  him  ?' 

"  '  You  can  scarcely  err  in  praying  for  him,  or  for 
any  one,  Barbe,'  I  said.  '  God  will  not  give  wrong 
because  we  ask  wrong.  If  one  of  your  little  bro- 
thers, being  thirsty,  asked  you  for  a  drink  from  a 
cup  of  poison,  you  would  smile  and  put  it  aside, 
and  give  him  the  cup  of  water  he  wants  instead.' 


j!b  OX    BOTH  HIDES    OF   THE  SEA 

olive's  recollections. 

The  taking  of  Dunkirk  in  June,  1658,  and  the 
relief  ensured  to  the  threatened  Christians  in  the 
Vallevs,  was  a  brilliant  moment  in  that  stormv  t.me 

All  England  triumphed.     The  dishonour  of  th 
"loss  of  Calais  was  undone.     The  Protestant  Com- 
monwealth had  avenged  the  disgrace  which  sank 
so  deep  into  the  heart  of  the  poor  dying  Popish 
Queen. 

Once  more  the  Lord  Protector  had  shown  that 
the  Protestant  Church  was  not  a  heap  of  disjointed 
fragments,  but  a  living  body,  which  felt  with  a  pang 
of  actual  pain  an  injury  inflicted  on  its  feeblest  mem- 
ber. A  living  body  to  feel,  and  a  living  power  to 
avenge.. 

England  was  no  more  an  island  (except  in  as  far 
as  her  seas  and  ships  were  her  impassable  trench 
and  impregnable  walls  against  the  world),  but  aa 
in  the  old  days  before  the  Reformation,  one  of  the 
great  commonwealth  of  nations,  nay,  rather  the 
queenly  protector  of  the  great  commonwealth  of 
Protestant  nations. 

Nevertheless  this  sense  of  unity  and  strength 
seemed  but  the  passing  consciousness  of  a  waking 
moment.  The  rest  of  the  months  seemed  too  much 
like  a  restless  feverish  dream.  At  least  so  they 
appear  to  me  as  I  look  back.  How  far  the  great 
calamity  of  that  autumn  has  to  do  with  darkening 
the  whole  year  in  my  memory  into  a  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  it  is  hard  to  say. 

The  clouds  gathered  and  gathered  again,  thick 


V.V  BOTH   SIDES  OF   THE  bEA. 


3»7 


and  dark  throughout  the  year,  over  the  Cominou- 
wealth  and  over  the  Protector's  household. 

The  prophets  of  doom  saw  sorrows  enough  break 
on  Oliver's  head  to  satisfy  them  that  their  predic- 
tions were  just. 

On  February  the  4th,  his  last  Parliament  was 
dissolved,  with  words  which  seem  to  me  noble  and 
mournful  as  any  with  which  a  great  man  ever 
uttered  his  grief  that  his  people  would  not  under- 
stand him,  and  that  he  had  to  tread  his  way  alone. 

A  fortnight  before  he  had  opened  it  with  words 
of  stern  warning,  yet  of  hope : — "  I  look  upon  this 
to  be  the  great  duty  of  my  place,"  he  had  said, 
"  as  being  set  on  a  watch-tower  to  see  what  may  be 
for  the  good  of  these  nations,  and  what  may  be  for 
the  preventing  of  evil."  Then  warning  them  of 
the  dangers  which  environed  England  and  the 
Protestant  nations,  he  said, — "  You  have  accounted 
yourselves  happy  in  being  environed  with  a  great 
ditch  from  all  the  world  beside.  Truly  you  will 
not  be  able  to  keep  your  ditch,  nor  your  shipping, 
unless  you  fight  to  defend  yourselves.  If  you  shall 
think  this  is  a  time  of  sleep  and  ease  and  rest, — we 
may  discourse  of  all  things  at  pleasure,  there  is  no 
danger, — I  have  this  comfort  to  Godward;  I  have 
told  you  of  it." 

And  now  the  warnings  were  fulfilled,  the  hope 
had  vanished,  and  with  stern  voice  he  said; — 

"  I  had  very  comfortable  expectations  that  God 

would  make  the  meeting  of  this  Parliament  a  bless 

ing.     That  which  brought  me  into  the  capacity  1 

now  stand  in  was  the  petition  and  advice  given  me 

37* 


ji8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

by  you.  There  is  not  a  man  living  can  say  I  sought 
it ;  not  a  man  nor  woman  treading  upon  English 
ground. 

"  1  can  say  in  the  presence  of*  (rod — in  compari- 
son with  whom  we  are  but  like  poor  creeping  ants 
upon  the  earth — I  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
lived  under  my  woodside,  to  have  kept  a  flock  of 
Bkeep."  "  I  thought  I  had  been  doing  that  whicl 
was  my  duty,  and  thought  it  would  have  satisfied 
you.  But  if  everything  must  be  too  high  or  loo  low, 
you  are  not  to  be  satisfied."  (Theologies  puffed  up 
too  high  on  airy  heights,  above  plain  "  virtue  and 
honesty,  justice,  piety,"  and  all  the  sober  work  of 
men ;  disorders  plunging  too  low.)  "  Yet  you  have 
not  only  disjointed  yourselves,  but  the  whole  na- 
tion ;  which  is  in  likelihood  of  running  into  more 
confusion  in  these  fifteen  or  sixteen  days  that  you 
have  sate,  than  it  hath  been  from  the  rising  of  the 
session  to  this  day ;  that  some  men  may  rule  all ! 
And  they  are  endeavouring  to  engage  the  army  to 
carry  that  thing  ! 

"  These  things  tend  to  nothing  but  the  playing 
of  the  King  of  Scots'  game  (if  I  may  so  call  him), 
and  1  think  myself  bound  before  God  to  do  what  I 
ean  to  prevent  it. 

"  The  King  of  Scots  hath  an  army  ready  to  be 
shipped  for  England  ;  and  while  this  is  doing,  there 
are  endeavours  from  some  who  are  not  far  from  this 
place,  to  stir  up  the  people  of  this  town  into  a 
turn ulting.  Some  of  you  have  been  listing  persons 
by  commission  of  Charles  Stuart.  And  if  this  bo 
the  end  of  your  sitting,  and  this  be  your  carriage. 


ON   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA  31 9 

I  think  it  high  time  an  end  should  be  put  to  your 
sitting.  And  I  do  dissolve  this  Parliament.  And 
let  God  be  Judge  between  you  and  me." 

The  Protector,  at  least,  was  not  afraid  to  appeal 
to  the  highest  tribunal.  Royalists,  Quakers,  Fifth- 
Monarchy  men,  good  men  of  various  kinds,  threat- 
ened him  with  the  judgment  of  that  bar  as  a  ter- 
ror.    He  invoked  it  as  a  refuge. 

So  his  last  Parliament  went  its  way,  leaving  hira 
to  bear  the  whole  burden  alone  for  the  rest  of  the 
journey.  It  was  not  long.  Six  months,  and  he 
should  stand  at  the  tribunal  to  which  he  had  ap- 
pealed. He  had  appealed  to  the  Highest  ;  to  the 
Highest  he  was  to  go. 

The  blows  of  death  fell  thick  on  those  he  loved ; 
— on  the  few  who  steadfastly  trusted  and  honoured 
him.  In  the  August  before,  Blake  had  died,  the 
sea  hero,  coming  home  from  his  victories.  He  had 
died  off  Plymouth,  in  sight  of  shore! 

Could  we  have  seen  it,  the  Protector  also  was  in 
sight  of  shore ;  the  shore  he  longed  for,  and  did  not 
fail  to  reach. 

In  February  one  of  his  young  daughters  was 
widowed,  the  Lady  Frances,  bereaved  in  the  first 
year  of  their  marriage  of  her  husband,  young 
Mr.  Rich,  a  widow  at  seventeen. 

In  April  died  the  good  Earl  of  Warwick,  one  of 
the  noblemen  who  had  honoured  Oliver  from  the 
first ;  Mr.  Rich's  grandfather. 

In  July  and  early  August  the  shadow  drew  closer 
The  Lady  Claypole — his  dearest  daughter  Betty- 
lay  sorely  smitten  at  Hampton  Court. 


j20  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF    THE  L'EA. 

The  tumults  aiound  the  palace  and  the  kingdom, 
for  the  time,  must  have  seemed  faint,  far-off  eohoei 
to  the  father's  heart,  compared  with  the  sufferings 
and  fears  of  the  sick-chamber,  where  his  daughter 
lav  dying. 

at  •/  O 

Yet  these  were  not  few. 

General  Lambert,  his  old  friend  and  comrade, 
plotting  to  throw  him  out  of  one  of  the  windows 
of  Whitehall,  under  pretence  of  presenting  a  peti- 
tion ;  "  knowing,"  Roger  said,  "how  open  the  brave 
heart  which  no  treachery  could  make  suspicious, 
was  to  cries  for  redress  of  wrong." 

Colonel  Hutchinson,  Independent  and  Repub- 
lican, also  his  old  friend  and  comrade,  while  warn- 
ing him  of  this  plot,  piercing  his  heart,  belike, 
deeper  than  the  assassin's  knife  by  deeming  the 
"  affection "  and  trusting  words  and  tears  with 
v/hich  the  Protector  thanked  him  (almost  beseech- 
ing the  return  of  the  old  friendship)  mere  "arts" 
and  "  fair  courtship." 

The  Presbyterians  coldly  holding  off  from  him,  or 
persistently  conspiring  with  the  Cavaliers. 

Lord  Ormond  in  London  in  disguise,  organizing 
a  Royalist  insurrection. 

The  tract,  "  Killing  no  Murder,"  warning  him 
that  "the  muster-roll"  of  those  who  thought  it 
doing  God  service  to  kill  him,  was  "  longer  than  lie 
coull  count,"  and  some  of  them  "among  his  own 
friends." 

Fifth-Monarchy  men  raising  the  standard  of  the 
"  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,"  against  what  thej 
called  his  tyranny. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


3* 


George  Fox  and  the  Quakers,  in  awful  letters 
of  denunciation,  "  laying  on  him  the  weight "  of 
all  the  persecution  of  the  Friends  throughout  Eng- 
land, inflicted  under  the  authority  of  his  name, 
although,  as  far  as  I  know,  never  by  his  order. 

Aunt  Dorothy  wrote  that  deliverance  must  be  at 
hand,  for  she  understood  that  a  "  synagogue  of 
Portuguese  Jews  had  been  suffered  to  pollute  the 
land  by  celebrating  publicly  their  anti-Christian 
rites  in  London." 

Annis  Nye  said  little.  "  But  Thomas  Oldham, 
Margaret  Fell,  George  Fox,  and  Edward  Burrough 
have  warned  Oliver,"  she  observed,  "  that  if  he 
listen  to  lies  against  the  innocent,  and  fail  to  re- 
lease the  Friends  from  prison,  God  will  suddenly 
smite  him,  and  that  without  remedy." 

"  Not  so  easy,  Mistress  Annis,"  replied  Job,  "  for 
a  mortal  man,  protector  or  king,  to  know  what  are 
lies,  and  who  are  the  innocent,  nor  to  set  all  the 
wrongs  right  in  a  day.  Not  so  easy  it  seems, 
even  for  the  Almighty,  who  has  been  ruling  all 
these  ages.  I  thought  once  it  could  be  done  all  in 
a  day.  But  I  had  to  learn  otherwise,  and  so  wilt 
thou.  Seems  to  me  one  half  of  the  godly  grumble 
at  the  Protector  because  they  think  he  wants  to  bo 
almighty,  and  the  other  because  they  want  him  to 
be  all-seeing  and  all-present." 

Mcanwdiile,  the  ambassadors  of  all  rations 
thronged  to  pay  homage  to  the  man  who  ma  le 
all  men  honour  England,  whether  she  honoured 
him  or  not.  Through  those  summer  months  after 
th-i  victory   and   capture  of  Dunkirk,   the  street* 


322 


ON   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA. 


were  brave  with  coaches  of  arnbassadjrs  and 
princes,  from  Fraj  ce,  Denmark,  Austria,  and  thf 
ends  of  the  earth. 

The  strong  hand  was  still  on  the  helm,  the  cleai 
strong  eyes  were  still  on  the  waves  and  stars,  keep- 
ing watch  for  England,  whether  she  acknowledged 
it  or  not. 

No  man  saw  the  hand  relax  its  grasp,  or  th« 
eyes  waver  from  their  purpose,  for  all  the  noise  and 
clamour,  or  the  aiming  at  his  life.  He  saw  all,  and 
calmly  put  aside  the  danger  when  too  near;  but 
never  turned  from  his  steadfast  watch,  steadfastly 
piloting  the  good  ship  on. 

Until  at  last,  for  a  brief  season,  the  brave  heart 
gave  way.  His  dearest  child  was  dying ;  and  for 
fourteen  days  the  Lord  Protector  could  attend  to 
nothing  save  the  dying  moans  and  tears  of  that 
bed  of  anguish.  For  her  death  was  slow,  and  ap- 
proached through  terrible  pain,  so  that  her  anguish 
was  more  than  her  father  could  bear  to  see. 

George  Fox  wrote  to  her  some  words  of  warm 
and  tender  sympathy : 

"  Be  still  and  cool  in  thy  own  mind  and  spirit 
from  thy  own  thoughts,  and  be  stayed  in  the  princi- 
ple of  God  in  thee,  that  it  ma^  raise  thy  mind  up  to 
God,  and  stay  it  upon  God,  and  find  Him  to  be  a 
God  at  hand.  The  humble,  God  will  teach  His  way. 
The  same  light  which  lets  you  see  sin  and  trans- 
gression will  let  you  see  the  convenant  of  God 
which  blots  out  your  sin  and  transgression,  which 
gives  victory  and  dominion  over  it.  For  looking 
down  at  sin  and  corruption  and  desolation,   ye  are 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  323 

swallowed  up  in  it;  but  looking  at  the  light  which 
discovers  them,  you  will  see  over  them :  that  ye 
may  feel  the  power  of  an  endless  life,  the  power  of 
God  which  is  immortal;  which  brings  the  immortal 
soul  up  to  the  immortal  God,  in  whom  it  doth  re- 
joice. So,  in  the  name  and  power  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
C'arist,  God  Almighty  strengthen  thee." 

Good  words,  though  no  new  truth  to  the  daugh- 
ter of  him  who  had  written,  years  before,  to  Gen- 
eral Fleetwood,  his  daughter  Bridget's  husband : 
"  Faith,  as  an  act,  yields  not  grace ;  but  only  as  it 
leads  to  Him  who  is  our  perfect  rest  and  peace." 
But  when  they  were  read  to  the  poor  suffering  lady, 
she  said  they  "  stayed  her  mind."  She  had  need  of 
all  the  stay  that  could  be  given.  And  her  father 
was  not  one  to  keep  one  word  of  comfort  from  her 
fainting  heart  because  he  could  have  spoken  it 
better,  or  because  it  dropped  from  lips  which  had 
denounced  him. 

On  the  5th  of  August  the  long  watch  by  the  bed 
of  anguish  in  the  mournful  palace-chamber  was  over. 
The  weary  body  and  spirit  were  at  rest.  The  Lady 
Elizabeth  lay  dead. 

The  Protector  roused  himself  once  more  to  take 
up  the  burden  of  the  State,  which  while  she  suf- 
fered, he  had  been,  for  the  first  time,  unable  to  bear. 
Attempts  at  assassination,  insurrections,  had  not 
interrupted  his  work  a  day.  But  for  fourteen  days 
even  England  was  forgotten,  as  he  watched  the 
slow  death  agonies  of  his  child. 

Now  that  she  was  dead,  he  arose  and  girded 
himself  once  more  for  his  warfare 


3:14  °'V  B0TH  SIDES    OF  TEE  SEA. 

Another  fourteen  days,  and  he  could  put  lis  an 
mour  off  and  lie  down  lor  the  long  rest ! 

The  sources  of  his  strength  were  not  altogethei 
hidden  from  us.  We  heard  that  a  few  days  aftef 
his  daughter's  death  he  called  on  one  to  read  him 
from  the  Bible  the  words  :  "  Not  that  I  speak  in  re- 
spect of  want :  for  I have  learned,  in  whatsoever  state 
ram,  therewith  to  be  content.  I  know  both  how  to  be 
abased,  and  I  know  how  to  abound:  everywhere  and  in 
all  things  I  am  instructed  ^olh  to  be  full  and  to  be  hun- 
gry, both  to  abound  and  to  suffer  need.  lean  do  all  things 
through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me.'''' 

"  This  Scripture  did  once  save  my  life,"  he  said, 
"  when  ray  eldest  son  died,  which  went  as  a  dagger 
to  my  heart,  indeed  it  did." 

"  It's  true,  Paul,"  he  went  on,  after  a  pause,  "  you 
have  learned  this,  and  attained  to  this  measure  of 
grace,  but  what  shall  /  do  ?  Ah,  poor  creature,  it's 
a  hard  lesson  for  me  to  take  out.  I  find  it  so." 
Then,  looking  on,  he  read  aloud :  "  /  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  tvhich  strengtheneth  me;''''  aud 
his  heart  seemed  comforted,  for  he  said :  "  He  that 
was  Paul's  Christ  is  my  Christ  too." 

He  was  standing  near  the  end  of  the  ardrous 
journey,  though  neither  he  nor  any  knew  it;  and 
from  the  height  he  looked  back  over  the  many 
battle-fields  of  his  life  ;  from  this  last  sorrow  to  that 
first,  to  the  grave  of  his  first-born,  and  all  the 
promise  buried  with  him  in  the  quiet  old  chuich  at 
Felsted. 

A  day  01  two  after  George  Fox  met  him,  riding 
it  the  head  of  his  life-guard      Oliver  stopped  and 


O J  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  3^ 

listened,  and  spoke  to  him  about  the  sufferings 
of  Friends.  Always  so  ready  to  listen  to  men  he 
believed  good  and  true,  denounce  him  as  they 
miaht !  And  he  bade  George  Fox  come  to  his 
house.  But  on  the  morrow  when  George  went  to 
Hampton  Court  to  wait  on  him,  the  physicians 
deemed  the  Protector  tco  ill  to  see  him,  and  the 
Quaker  went  away  and  never  saw  him  more.  lie 
thought  that  he  had  felt  a  "  waft  of  death"  go  forth 
against  the  Protector  when  he  met  him  at  the  head 
of  his  jmard.  It  would  be  Ions:  before  Georsre  Fox 
found  again  one  in  king's  palaces,  lord  of  England, 
and  dread  of  Europe,  who  would  "  catch  him  by 
the  hand,"  as  Oliver  did,  regardless  of  discourtesies 
and  denunciations,  and  say  with  tears  in  those 
searching  and  commanding  eyes,  "  Come  again  to 
my  house.  If  thou  and  I  were  but  an  hour  of  the 
day  together,  we  should  be  nearer  one  to  the  other. 
I  wish  no  more  harm  to  thee  than  I  do  to  my 
own  soul." 

Perhaps  as  George  went  away  from  the  door  so 
freely  opened  to  him,  the  memory  of  these  wel- 
comes and  farewells  came  back  to  him.  And  lie 
may  have  thought  thit  in  prophesying  death  to 
the  Protector,  he  and  his  Friends  had  uttered 
rather  a  promise  than  a  threat.     But  I  know  not. 

On  Friday,  the  20th  of  August,  uneasy  rumours 
began  to  spread  of  his  Highness's  sickness.  On 
the  following  Tuesday,  the  24th,  the  symptoms 
were  worse.  It  was  tertian  ague,  and  the  doctors 
had  him  removed  to  "Whitehall  for  drier  air. 

The  anxiety  in  the  city  grew  speechless;  brief 
28 


326  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

questions  to  any  who  knew  of  his  state;  brief  un- 
satisfying answers.  And  then  prayers,  fervent,  fre- 
quent, constant,  in  churches,  in  cathedrals,  in 
palaces,  m  homes;  from  Owen  and  Goodwin  in  a 
a  room  at  Whitehall  adjoining  that  in  which  the 
Protector  lay.  Prayers  so  fervent,  that  those  who 
poured  them  forth  from  hearts  made  eloquent  by 
hope  and  fear,  mistook  this  inward  glow  for  a  res- 
ponsive divine  fire,  and  assured  others  that  their 
offerings  were  accepted,  that  their  petitions  would 
be  granted,  and  the  precious  life  be  spared  to 
England  yet. 

IJut  through  all  those  days  Roger,  who  had  re- 
turned from  France,  spoke  scarce  a  word,  save  in 
answer  to  our  questions  about  his  Highness's 
health,  when  he  came  from  the  palace.  He  looked 
•Dale  as  death  himself,  and  well-nigh  as  rigid.  The 
longings  in  his  heart  for  Oliver's  life  were  so  fervent 
that  to  himself  his  own  prayers  and  those  of  other 
men  seemed  in  comparison  as  if  struck  with  a  death 
chill.  "  I  cannot  pray,  Olive,"  he  said  to  me  once. 
"  When  I  look  up  to  heaven  I  seem  to  see  nothing 
hut  a  great  silent,  stately  Company,  making  a  path 
between  them  for  him,  straight  to  the  Throne,  and 
waiting  to  see  him  pass." 

Once  when  coming  from  a  place  where  ma  iy  had 
met  in  prayer,  broken  by  tears  and  sobs,  I  said  to 
Roger:  "'Surely  God  only  suffers  this  to  show 
England  what  he  is.  The  people  begin  to,  under- 
stand him  now  !     They  will  never  forget !" 

"  They  begin  to  understand  now,"  he  said. 
"  Wayward  children  do  begin  to  understand  mai>y 
thinsjs  by  a  father's  death-bed." 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


3*7 


The  word  fell  from  his  lips  like  a  tilling  hell.  1 
knew  well  he  could  not  have  littered  it  if  he  had 
felt  any  hope. 

Annis  Nye  was  quieter  than  even  her  wont,  and 
very  gentle,  during  those  days.  Once  having  heard 
how  his  Highness'  "  spirit  was  stayed,"  she  said  a 
thing  which  drew  my  heart  to  her  very  closely. 

"  May  be  the  words  of  the  Friends  Tare  being  fid- 
filled  otherwise  than  we  looked.  May  be  the  angel 
is  smiting,  not  Oliver,  but  only  the  fetters,  and  the 
prison  doors  to  set  him  free." 

Roger  brought  us  word  from  time  to  time  of 
sacred  words  from  the  sick-chamber. 

"The  Covenants  Mere  two — Two  put  into  One 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world." 

"  It  is  holy  and  true — it  is  holy  and  true — it  is 
holy  and  true!  Who  made  it  holy  and  true?  The 
Mediator  of  the  Covenant." 

"  The  Covenant  is  but  one.  Faith  in  the  Cove- 
nant is  my  support.  And  if  I  believe  not,  He  abides 
faithful." 

Solemn,  slow,  broken  utterances,  not  to  man,  but 
to  God. 

And  then  to  his  wife  and  children  weeping  by 
b's  bedside — 

"  Love  not  the  world.  I  say  unto  you  it  is  not 
good  that  you  should  love  this  world." 

It  was  becoming  "  this"  world,  no  longer  "the" 
world  to  him  ;  but  one  of  two  worlds.  For  a  little 
while  longer  (his  world  to  him,  soon  to  beuihat 
world"  still  surging  in  tumult  below,  where  ha 
had  fiHitrht  the  ijood  fi<jd  t  which  is  now  over  for  .ner 


328  ON  BOTH  SIDLS  OF  THE  SEA. 

"Children,  live  like  Christians;  I  leave  you  the 
Covenant  to  feed  upon." 

Then  (belike  passing  through  a  chaos  of  dark- 
ness and  doubt,  such  as  seems  to  edffe  round  and 
usher  in  every  fresh  creation  of  light),  "three  times 
with  great  weight  and  vehemency  of  spirit" — 

"It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
living  God." 

And  afterwards  (the  light  beyond  the  darkness 
being  reached) — 

"  All  the  promises  of  God  are  in  Him,  yea  and  in 
Him,  Amen,  to  the  glory  of  God  by  us — by  us — iu 
Jesus  Christ." 

"  The  Lord  hath  filled  me  with  as  much  assurance 
of  His  favour  and  His  love  as  my  soul  can  hold." 

"  I  think  I  am  the  poorest  wretch  that  lives  ;  but 
I  love  God,  or  rather,  am  beloved  of  God." 

"I  am  a  conqueror,  and  more  than  a  conqueror 
through  Christ  that  strengtheneth  me." 

So  through  the  weary  days  and  nights  he  passed, 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  end,  the  tumult  in  men's 
hearts  growing  deeper,  when  on  the  Monday  the 
30th  of  August,  the  fearful  storm  of  wind  which 
none  who  heard  can  ever  forget  ra^ed  over  the  land, 
as  if  it  were  over  the  sea ;  beating  back  carriages 
on  the  roads,  as  if  they  had  been  boats  on  the 
rivers ;  raging,  wailing,  rending,  destroying,  as  if 
the  angels  who  held  the  "four  winds  of  the  earth" 
had  relaxed  their  hold,  and  set  the  wild  creatures 
ill  free  together. 

But  to  us  who  loved  Oliver  and  the  Common- 
wealth,  that  tempest   seemed  but  the  simple  and 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  iiEA.  329 

natural  accompaniment  to  the  tumult  in  our  souls, 
a  response  to  the  storms  in  men's  hearts ;  simply  a 
fitting  dirge  to  the  life  that  went  out  with  it. 

And  meantime,  through  the  storm,  his  Highness 
was  praying  thus  : — 

"  Lord,  though  I  am  a  miserable  and  wretched 
sinner,  I  am  in  covenant  with  Thee  through  grace. 
And  I  may,  T  will,  come  to  Thee  for  Thy  people. 
Thou  has  made  me,  though  very  unworthy,  a  mean 
instrument  to  do  them  some  good,  and  Thee  some 
service ;  and  many  of  them  have  set  too  high  a 
value  upon  me,  though  others  wish  and  would  be 
glad  of  my  death.  Lord,  however  Thou  do  dispose 
of  me,  continue  to  go  on  and  do  good  for  them. 
Give  them  consistency  of  judgment,  one  heart,  and 
mutual  love  ;  and  go  on  to  deliver  them,  and  with 
the  work  of  reformation ;  and  make  the  name  of 
Christ  glorious  in  the  world.  Teach  those  who  look 
too  much  on  Thy  instruments  to  depend  more  upon 
Thyself.  Pardon  such  as  desire  to  trample  on  the 
dust  of  a  poor  worm,  for  they  are  Thy  people  too. 
And  pardon  the  folly  of  this  short  prayer.  Even 
for  Jesus  Christ's  sake.  And  give  us  a  good  night 
if  it  be  Thy  pleasure.     Amen." 

lie  knew  it,  then,  and  he  had  felt  it ;  it  had  pierced 
his  heart,  that  those  he  deemed  good  men  shouli 
mistrust  him,  and  be  glad  that  he  should  die 
That  arrow  had  gone  home,  yet  with  the  barb  111 
his  heart  it  could  not  make  him  think  evil  of  those 
that  launched  it,  nor  leave  them  out  of  his  prayers 

The  last  night  came.  It  was  the  2nd  of  Septem- 
ber, the  eve  of  his  day  of  victory,  the  day  <>C  Ida 
"crowning  mercy,"  a  Thanksgiving  Day  in  England 


33©  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 

since  the  battle  of  Worcester.     The -voice  was  low 
now,  and  the  words  not  always  to  he  understood. 

"  Surely  God  is  good.     He  is — He  will  not — " 

And  often  again  and  again,  "  with  cheerfulness 
and  fervour  in  the  midst  of  his  pains." — 

"  God  is  good." 

This  was  the  key-note  to  which  "  all  along  "  hii 
other  tones  kept  recurring — 

"Truly  God  is  good — indeed  He  is." 

"  I  could  be  willing  to  live  to  be  further  service- 
able to  God  and  His  people.  But  my  work  is  done. 
Yet  God  will  be  with  His  people." 

Through  the  night  much  restlessness,  yet  much 
inward  rest.  Broken  words  of  holy  consolation  and 
peace,  "self annihilating"  words,  words  of  kingly 
care  for  England,  and  God's  cause  there ;  these 
among  the  very  last. 

Some  drink  being  offered  to  him,  with  an  en- 
treaty to  try  to  sleep,  he  answered — 

"  It  is  not  my  design  to  drink  or  sleep ;  but  my 
design  is  to  make  what  haste  I  can  to  be  gone." 

And  on  the  morrow  he  had  fallen  asleep,  and  was 
gone. 

Amongst  us  who  wee  left  behind,  the  Thanks- 
giving Day  was  turned  into  weeping.   But  his  long 
day  of  thanksgiving  had  begun.     The  long  night  oi 
his  faithful  watching  of  the  wars  and  storms  for 
England  was  over;  the  clear  eye,  the  steady  hand, 
were  gone  from  the  helm.    The  day  of  victory,  and 
rest,  and  coronation,  had  dawned  for  him  at  last. 
For,  as  his  chaplain  Mr.  John  Howe,  said : 
"  The  greatest  enemy  we  have  in  the  world  can- 
not do  us  the  despite  *o  keep  us  from  dying." 


Chapter  IX. 


NOTES  BY  MAGDALENE  ANTONY. 


HE  first  public  event  of  which  I  have  anj 
recollection,  or  rather  the  first  time  J  can 
clearly  recollect  having  a  glimpse  be- 
yond our  own  little  world  in  London 
and  Netherby,  was  one  warm  evening  in  August, 
1658. 

My  mother  was  coming  home  with  me  and  Dolly 
from  the  house  of  Mr.  John  Milton  in  Bird-Case 
Walk,  past  Whitehall,  when  we  noticed  many  peo- 
ple clustering  like  bees  around  the  doors  of  the  pal- 
ace ;  and  I  remember  my  mother  lifting  up  her 
finger,  and  saying  to  Dolly  and  me,  who  were  dis- 
cussing some  of  our  small  affairs  eagerly : — 

"Hush,  children,  the  Protector  is  there,  in  sore 
sickness." 

And  then  I  remember  noticing  that  the  groups  of 
people  through  which  we  were  passing  were  iU 
speaking  low  and  walking  softly,  as  people  do  in 
sick-chambers,  and  every  now  and  then  looking  up 
anxiously  to  the  palace-windows. 

I  recollect  a  hush  and  awe  creeping  over  me,  and 
a  guilty  feeling,  as  if  Dolly  and  I  had  been  chidden 
for  talking  in  church. 

(331) 


332  ON  BOTH  SID  US   OF   THE  SEA. 

And  all  spoke  in  murmurs,  and  no  one  said  any 
tiling  I  could  hear  distinctly,  until,  as  we  were  'eav 
ing  the  space  in  front  of  the  palace,  from  the  lasst 
point  at  which  we  could  see  the  windows,  my 
mother  turned  back  to  look.  It  happened  that,  at 
that  moment  two  men  were  standing  close  to  us. 
and  one  pointed  to  the  palace,  and  said:  ';  It  waa 
there  !  the  murderers  set  up  the  black  scaffold  there, 
just  under  those  windows.  I  see  it  now;  and  so, 
I  trow,  does  the  murderer  on  his  sick-bed  inside. 
And  so  will  more  than  one  when  the  black  pall 
comes  out  at  those  doors.  The  day  of  vengeance 
always  comes  at  last." 

The  words  went  through  me  like  a  shudder.  They 
were  spoken  in  a  deep  hissing  whisper,  more  like 
the  gnashing  of  teeth  than  speaking. 

I  did  not  venture  to  tell  my  mother  of  them.  I 
did  not  know  if  she  had  heard  them.  I  never  told 
anyone  of  them.  They  lay  seething  and  working 
in  my  brain,  as  so  many  perplexities  do  in  children's 
minds — halt-shaped,  half-shapeless,  altogether  voice- 
less, like  ghosts  waiting  to  be  born — and  tormented 
me  greatly. 

For  in  a  few  days  the  terrible  black  train  did 
leave  those  palace-doors.  My  mother  took  us  to  see 
it.  And  my  mother  wept,  and  Aunt  Gretel,  which 
was  not  so  wonderful,  because  Aunt  Gretel  would 
weep  as  easily  at  anything  that  moved  her  as  we, 
children.  But  my  father  wept,  and  even  Uncle 
Koger ;  and  Annis,  the  nurse,  was  stiller  than  jver. 
And  there  was  great  silence  and  quiet  wet  ping 
among  the  people  as  the  black  train  passed  froi  a  th« 


ON  BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  333 

Palace  to  the  Abbey.  It  was  a  great  day  of  mourn- 
ing ;  and  my  father  told  us  we  must  never  forget 
it.  For  all  the  people  of  England,  said  he,  that 
day  had  lost  their  best  friend.  But  all  the  time  I 
could  not  get  it  out  of  my  1  ead  that  somebody  had 
called  him  a  murderer,  and  had  called  this  day  of 
mourning  a  day  of  vengeance. 

It  puzzled  me  exceedingly,  more  especially  as  Dr. 
Rich,  the  quiet  clergyman  who  lived  in  the  little 
house  at  the  end  of  our  garden,  and  Austin  his  son, 
our  playfellow,  would  not,  I  knew,  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  procession  ;  and,  indeed,  would  never 
call  the  Protector  anything  but  Mr.  Cromwell.  And 
Annis,  our  nurse,  never  called  him  anything  but 
Oliver  Cromwell  (although  in  her  that  was  not 
remarkable,  since  she  called  even  our  father  and 
mother  Leonard  and  Olive) ;  and  I  had  heard  her 
say  often,  no  man  was  to  be  called  a  "  Protector'' 
who  let  hundreds  of  poor  Friends  languish  in  prison. 
Also  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  knew,  would  not  come  to  stay 
v.;th  us  on  account  of  something  that  had  to  do 
with  the  Protector.  All  which  things  made  a  groat 
tumult  and  chaos  iu  my  brain. 

But  I  must  confess  that  the  result  was,  that  we 
grew  up  with  a  great  tenderness  for  the  Royalist 
side. 

There  was  little  in  the  shows  and  titles  of  the 
Commonwealth  to  enkindle  the  imaginations  of 
children. 

In  all  the  fairy  tales  and  romaunts  and  poems  wo 
knew,  there  was  no  -such  prosaical  title  as  Lord  Pro- 
Uvtor.     Indeed,  we  agreed  that  the  Bible  history 


334  °X  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

itself  became  much  more  interesting  after  the  j  ldge* 
were  changed  into  kings,  however  wrong  it  might 
have,  been  of  the  Jews  to  wish  for  the  change.  We 
felt  that  the  threat  of  his  taking  our  "sons"  to  be 
his  horsemen  and  charioteers,  and  our  "daughters" 
to  be  his  cooks  and  confectionaries,  would  certainly 
not  have  deterred  us  from  demanding  a  king.  We 
thought  it  would  be  undoubtedly  more  glorious  to 
be  my  Lady  Confectionary  to  a  queen,  or  my  Lord 
Charioteer  to  a  king,  than  to  be  anything  in  the 
sober  untitled  train  of  a  protector.  Queen  Esther 
was  to  us  a  far  more  romantic  personage  than  Debo- 
rah, who  was  only  a  mother  in  Israel.  And  on  Sun- 
days, when  the  sermons  were  very  long  and  we  were 
allowed  to  read  the  Bible  to  keep  us  from  going 
to  sleep,  we  found  great  solace  in  expatiating  upon 
Shushan  the  palace,  among  the  courts  of  the  gardens 
with  mysterious  splendours  of  fine  linen  and  purple 
— beds  of  gold  and  silver — pavement  of  red,  blue, 
white,  and  black  marble — silver  rings  and  pillars 
of  marble,  between  which  were  to  be  caught 
glimpses  of  fair  ladies  in  robes  fragrant  with  per- 
fumes— of  a  crown  royal  and  a  golden  sceptre. 

But  besides  these  enchantments  for  our  earthly 
imaginations,  the  Royalist  cause,  as  expounded  to 
us  by  Austin  Rich  and  his  brothers,  laid  hold  on 
our  hearts  by  the  irresistible  charm  of  suffering 
majesty.  Over  the  story  of  the  young  orjman  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth,  dying  in  the  castle  where  her  father 
had  been  imprisoned,  with  her  head  pillowed  on  the 
Bible  she  loved,  we  wept  many  tears.  The  young 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  had  declared  to  the  king 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  335 

just  before  his  execution  that  he  would  let  them 
tear  him  in  pieces  rather  than  accept  his  brc  ther's 
throne,  was  one  of  our  earliest  heroes. 

And,  above  all,  the  name  of  King  Charles  was 
sacred  to  us.  Our  mother  always  spoke  of  him  with 
a  tender  respect.  We  knew  how  he  had  worn  the 
portrait  of  the  queen  his  wife  next  his  heart,  and 
only  parted  with  it  with  his  life.  We  thought  it 
quite  natural  that  Archbishop  Usher,  seeing  from 
the  roof  of  Lady  Peterborough's  house  the  king's 
coat  laid  aside  and  his  hair  bound  up  for  the  fatal 
stroke,  should  have  been  able  to  see  no  more,  but 
been  led  fainting  away.  Moreover,  Austin  Rich  had 
sundry  pathetic  stories  of  Episcopal  clergymen  plun- 
dered, and  their  parsonages  pillaged  by  Parliament 
troopers,  because  they  would  not  deny  the  king  01 
refuse  to  pray  for  him. 

So  that  we  were  quite  prepared  to  welcome  the 
next  great  public  event  which  made  an  impression 
on  us  after  the  funeral  of  the  Protector.  This  was 
the  entry  of  King  Charles  II.  into  London.  A  king 
was  actually  coming  through  our  streets  !  Our  frinc/  ; 
who  had  passed  his  youth  in  exile  !  He  was  com- 
ing to  be  crowned  in  the  Abbey,  and  to  reign  over 
us.  And  if  a  king,  then  of  course  the  queen  would 
come,  and  princes,  and  princesses, with  all  the  spier  1- 
ours  belon<_nmi  to  them. 

We  were  sorry  our  kindred  did  not  seem  quite 
happy  about  it.  But  we  had  1  aen  told  to  speak  re- 
spectfully of  the  king,  and  we  had  heard  the  minis- 
ter in  one  of  the  churches  pray  for  him.  So  that,  on 
the  whole,  Dolly  and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it 


336  ON  BOTH  SIDES   Oh    TIIR  SEA. 

would  not  be  very  wrong  for  us  to  enjoy  the  mag 
niticence  as  much  as  we  certainly  did.  Especially 
as  Aunt  Dorothy  (who,  our  mother  told  us,  was  as 
good  as  Aunt  Gretel,  and  Aunt  Gretel  we  well  knew 
was  better  than  any  one  else)  was  coming  to  town 
for  nothing  else  but  to  see  the  face  of  His  Majesty 
and  do  him  honour. 

The  previous  festivities  had  excited  our  expecta« 
tions  to  a  high  pitch.  There  had  been  heralds,  in 
coats  of  many  colours,  proclaiming  the  king  at  dif- 
ferent places  in  the  streets ;  and  crowds  shouting, 
"  The  king,  God  bless  him  !"  and  bells  breaking 
out  into  peals  of  joy  ;  and  bonfires — we  could  count 
thirty  one  evening  from  our  upper  windows — along 
the  high  road  from  Westminster  to  the  City,  in  the 
streets,  on  the  bridges,  by  the  water-side. 

So  at  last  the  great  festival  came.  Banners  hid- 
den for  years  waving  from  the  windows  all  down 
the  streets ;  fountains  flowing  with  wine ;  bells 
clashing  all  together  in  sudden  peals,  as  if  they 
had  gone  wild  for  joy  ;  and  all  the  people  as  mad 
for  joy  as  the  bells—  some  shouting,  some  weeping  ; 
strangers  greeting  each  other  like  old  friends.  And 
such  dresses  !  Old  Cavalier  wardrobes  brought  to 
light  again  ;  and  some  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the 
new  French  fashions,  with  dresses  gilded,  slashed, 
tasseled,  plumed,  laced  ;  every  one  trying  to  show 
their  loyalty  by  going  as  far  from  the  old  Puritan 
plainness  as  possible,  in  materials  as  rich  as  could 
be  purchased,  and  of  every  colour  of  the  rainbow. 
We  thought  it  almost  as  splendid  as  Shushan  the 
palace  in  the  days  of  Esther  the  queen.     Trumpets, 


ON    BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE   SNA.  337 

bolls,  drums,  songs,  wild  shouts  ;  colour  and  musio 
everywhere,  May-day  everywhere, — in  dresses,  in 
banners,  in  the  budding  trees,  in  the  blue  skies  ;  all 
the  city,  all  the  world  seemed  to  us  gone  wild  with 

joy- 

And  Aunt  Dorothy,  the  soberest  and  gravest  oi 
all  our  kindred,  as  wild  as   any  one  ;    crying  out, 
"  The  king,  God  bless  him  !"  kissing  Dolly  and  me 
again  and  again  in  a  way  which  surprised  us  exceed 
ingly,  as  we  "were  not  aware  of  having  done  any 
thing  remarkably  good  ;  and  even  at  bed-time  the 
caresses   exchanged  between   us  usually   went    no 
further  than  our  courtesying  and  kissing  her  hand, 
and  being  told  to  be  good  children. 

And  then  the  king  ! 

On  horseback,  as  a  kino;  should  be  ;  in  gorgeous 
appare',  nmiling  and  bowing  right  and  left,  as  if  he 
felt  we  were  all  friends  ;  acknowledging  every  cour- 
tesy with  the  easy  grace  natural  to  him. 

And  as  he  passed  by,  Aunt  Dorothy  actually  sank 
down  on  one  knee  and  clasped  her  hands  as  if  in 
prayer,  while  the  tears  streamed  over  her  face  ;  and 
we  thought  we  heard  her  murmur,  "  Lord,  now  let 
thy  servant  depart  in  peace."  For  she  told  us  the 
salvation  of  England  had  come. 

So  the  king  went  on  to  his  palace  ;  and  the  loyal 
lords  and  ladies  followed  him  in  their  coaches,  bril- 
liant with  jewels  and  smiles.  And  Aunt  Dorothy, 
Dolly,  and  I  looked  on,  when  suddenly,  while  the 
procession  was  pausing  for  a  minute,  one  of  the 
loveliest  of  the  ladies  turned  towards  us  ;  and  when 
ehe  saw  Aunt  Dorothy,  her  face,  which  was  graver 
29 


538  ON  BOTH  SIhSS  OF  THE  SEA. 

and  paler  than  most  of  those  in  that  gay  company 
broke  into  smiles  and  into  a  sudden  glow;  and  she 
seemed  looking  on  beyond  lis,  and  then  her  eyes 
came  back  and  rested  on  ns  again,  a  little  sadly. 

Aunt  Dorothy  exclaimed, — 

"  Lettice  Davenant  !" 

And  I  looked,  and  loved  her  face  at  dice,  and 
yet  wondered.  For  our  mother  had  talked  to  ua 
of  her  as  the  brightest  creature  in  the  world  ;  and 
we  had  always  pictured  our  loveliest  fury  princes- 
ses as  like  what  our  mother  had  told  us  of  Lettice 
Davenant,  with  eyes  like  diamonds,  and  teeth  like 
pearls,  and  a  colour  like  fresh  roses,  hihI  a  brilliant 
changing  lace,  with  a  flash  and  play  like  precious 
stones  about  it. 

And  now  she  sat  there  quietly  dressed,  unlike  the 
ladies  round  her ;  bedecked  with  few  jewels  ;  with 
a  sweet,  calm  face,  rather  like  the  good  women  in 
New  Testapnent  pictures,  than  a  princess  in  a  fairy 
tale. 

So  she  also  passed  on,  folio  whig  the  king  to  the 
palace.  And  the  people  rejoiced,  and  sang  and 
feasted  far  into  the  niffht. 

We  were  wakened  from  our  first  sleep  by  sounds 
of  revelry  and  wild  son^s  echoing  through  the 
streets.     Strange  sounds  to  us. 

We  crept  close  to  each  other,  Dolly  and  I;  and 
I  said,  "  Dolly,  do  you  think  it  was  as  good  as  the 
Book  of  Esther  ?" 

But  Dolly  confessed  to  being  a  little  disappointed, 
The  king  in  the  fairy  tales  was  so  different  from 
othei  people,  she  said  ;  you  always  knew  him  from 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  339 

any  one  else,  even  when  he  was  dressed  like  a  beg* 
gar.  How,  she  could  not  quite  tell ;  perhaps  his 
face  actually  shone,  and  his  clothes,  instead  of  being 
only  shone  upon,  like  other  people's. 

But  our  king  was  dressed  like  a  king  in  a  fairy 
tale,  there  was  nothing  to  complain  of  in  that ;  and 
yet,  if  Aunt  Dorothy  had  not  told  us,  we  might 
not  have  known  him  from  the  gentlemen  with  hirm 
We  agreed  that  it  would  be  convenient,  since  the 
faces  of  real  kings  did  not  shine,  that  they  should 
always  wear  crowns.  Otherwise  one  might  make 
mistakes,  which  would  be  such  a  pity. 

Perhaps,  when  our  king  was  crowned,  however, 
it  would  be  all  right. 

But  we  concluded  that  it  certainly  was  a  very 
delightful  thing  to  have  a  king  of  our  own,  whether 
his  face  shone,  or  whether  he  was  a  head  and  should- 
ers taller  than  other  men,  or  not.  It  made  every 
one  dress  so  beautifully,  and  seem  so  glad,  and  set 
all  the  bells  and  trumpets  going  so  gloriously.  And 
we  hoped  veiy  soon  there  would  come  also  the  queen, 
and  the  princes  and  princesses. 

And  then  the  world  Mould  be  something  like 
fairy-land  indeed.  Our  father  and  mother,  and 
Uncle  Roger,  and  all  the  good  people,  would  of 
course  be  rewarded,  and  made  happy  all  the  rest 
of  their  days,  Avhen  our  king  found  them  out,  as  he 
would  be  sure  to  do  in  time.  Of  course,  they  were 
not  expecting  to  be  rewarded.  On  the  contrary, 
they  would  be  exceedingly  surprised  when  the  king 
found  them  out,  and  embraced  them,  and  made  them 
B:t  on  his  right  hand.     The  good  people  in  the  fairy 


j40  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE    SEA. 

tales  always  were.  But  there  was  sure  to  be  m 
mistake  in  the  end.  The  good  people  always  had 
their  due  when  the  true  prince  came.  And  it  was 
tot  to  be  thought  of  that  England  was  to  be  worse 
governed  than  a  kingdom  in  fairy-land. 

The  next  week  Ave  were  still  more  satisfied  that 
we  had  entered  on  this  fairy  world.  For  as  Isaac, 
Dolly,  and  I  were  passing  "Westminster  Abbey,  we 
heard  an  unwonted  sound  issuing  from  it,  and  crept 
in  to  listen.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  we  heard  the 
orsran,  with  the  chant  of  the  choristers.  But  we 
no  more  thought  of  its  being  an  earthly  instrument, 
made  of  wood  and  metal,  than  of  the  golden  streets 
of  the  New  Jerusalem  being  made  of  gold  like  one 
of  our  coins. 

The  wonderful  sounds  rolled  up  and  down  tho 
aisles,  and  wound  in  and  out  among  the  arches, 
and  wreathed  the  old  stone  pillars,  and  seemed  to 
lose  themselves  in  far-off  shrines  and  mysterious 
endless  recesses  like  those  in  a  forest,  and  then  to 
come  back  again  changed  and  intertwined  with 
earlier  echoes  to  mingle  with  the  new  tides  of  music 
that  kept  streaming  forth  ;  until  we  found  that  all 
the  while  the  wondrous  tones  had  seemed  wander- 
ing at  their  own  sweet  will,  they  had  been  building 
a  temple  within  the  temple — a  temple  of  melody 
within  the  temple  of  stone.  And  the  Abbey  was 
no  more  a  sculptured  edifice,  out  a  living  body  with 
a  living  soul.  And  when  this  temple  was  built, 
angels  came  and  sang  in  it — voices  such  as  we  had 
uever  heard  on  earth — clear  as  bells,  and  free  a» 


ON  BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  ^ 

winds,  without  a  touch  of  the  struggle  and  sadness 
in  them  which  common  human  voices  have. 

Thus  Isaac,  Dolly,  and  I  walked  home,  with  the 
gates  of  paradise  all  open  around  us. 

The  next  morning  we  crept  out  again  to  listen  if 
these  heavenly  gates  were  open  still. 

But  on  our  way  we  met  a  noisy,  riotous  crowd 
dragging  along  a  hear  which  was  to  he  haited  in 
the  Spring  Gardens.  Isaac  said  "  baiting  "  meant 
that  it  was  to  be  torn  in  pieces  by  dogs  for  the 
amusement  of  the  people,  after  killing  and  gashing 
as  many  dogs  as  it  could,  meantime,  in  its  own  de- 
fence. This  was  an  amusement  which  the  Protector 
had  not  permitted.  The  thought  of  it  closed  the 
gates  of  paradise  to  me,  at  least  for  that  day. 

olive's    recollections. 

They  laid  him  in  the  Abbey  among  the  kings. 

For  two  years  the  dust  of  Tudors  and  Planta- 
genets  was  honoured  (so  Roger  thought)  by  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  mortal  part  of  the  man  wTho 
had  served  England  as  any  of  her  kings  might  bav. 
been  proud  to  have  served  her — had  loved  her,  aa 
we  believe,  more  than  home  or  life,  or  even  the 
esteem  of  good  men — had  made  her  greater  than 
any  king  or  prince  had  ever  made  her,  from  Alfred 
to  the  Elizabeth  whom  he  called  "  that  great  queen." 

And  then,  in  the  September  after  the  Restoration, 
(by  order  of  the  king  who  sold  Dunkirk  to  the 
French,  and  spent  the  money  like  the  prodigal  in 
the  parable),  the  noble  dust  was  taken  out  of  ita 
resting-place,  with  the  remains  of  the  aged  mother, 
20* 


?42  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

and  that  daughter,  Elizabeth  Claypole,  whom  the 
Protector  had  loved  so  dearly  ;  and  of  Blake,  the 
great  admiral,  who  had  made  the  name  of  England 
a  renown  from  the  shores  of  Italy  and  Algiers  to 
Tenerifl'e  and  the  western  islands  of  the  Spanii-b 
main,  to  be  cast  contemptuously  into  a  pit  in  the 
neighbouring  chui'chyard  of  St.  Margaret's. 

I  think,  when  he  was  gone,  most  good  men  in 
England — at  least  most  Puritan  good  men — felt 
something  was  lost  our  generation  was  scarce  likely 
to  recover.  The  Scottish  ministers  said  that  God's 
goodness  had  marvellously  caused  true  piety  to 
flourish  more  under  this  usurper  than  under  her 
rio-htful  king;s  ;  "  turning;  bitter  waters  into  sweet 
by  a  miracle."  And  so  thought  Mr.  Richard  Bax- 
ter ;  acknowledging,  moreover,  that  he  believed  the 
Protector,  misled  as  he  had  been,  "  meant  well  in 
the  main." 

Good  Mr.  Philip  Henry  (who  kept  the  day  of  the 
late  king's  death  as  a  fast  day)  wrote,  that  though 
during  the  years  between  forty  and  sixty,  "the 
foundations  were  out  of  course,  yet  in  the  matter 
of  God's  worship  thing  went  well ;  thei'e  was  free- 
dom and  reformation." 

Mistress  Lucy  Hutchinson  acknowledged  that  he 
had  much  natural  greatness,  and  well  became  the 
place  he  had  usurped,  and  that  "  his  personal  cour- 
age and  magnanimity  upheld  him  against  all  ene- 
mies and  malcontents."  And  Mr.  John  Maidstone, 
his  faithful  "  gentleman  and  cofferer,"  wrote  (when 
nothing  but  dishonour  could  come  to  any  for  honour* 
ing  him) :  "  In  the  direst  perils  of  the  war,  and  th« 


AO   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  S1A.  3+, 

high  places  of  the  field,  hope  shone  in  him  like  a 
pillar  of  fire  when  it  had  gone  out  in  others."  And 
he  described  him  thus  :  "A  body  well  compact  and 
strong ;  his  stature  under  six  feet  (I  believe  two 
inches) ;  his  head  so  shaped  as  you  might  see  it 
both  a  storehouse  and  a  shop  "  (full  for  every  need, 
ready  for  all  occasions)  ;  "  a  vast  treasury  of  natu- 
ral parts  ;  his  temper  exceeding  fiery  (as  I  havo 
known),  but  the  flame  of  it  kept  down,  for  the  most 
part,  or  soon  allayed,  with  those  moral  endowments 
he  had  ;  naturally  compassionate  towards  objects 
in  distress,  even  to  an  effeminate  measure,  though 
God  had  made  in  him  a  heart  wherein  was  left  little 
room  for  fear.  A  larger  sot//,  I  think,  hath  seldom 
dwelt  in  a  house  of  clay  than  his  was." 

But  he  was  gone.  And  all  the  people  in  Eng- 
land who  thought  they  could  govern  England  bet- 
tor than  he  had  governed  her,  were  at  liberty  to  try 

They  did  try,  for  a  little  more  than  a  year.     And 
at  the  end  of  that  time  the  whole  nation,  distracted 
to  madness  from  end  to  end  by  the  disorders  they 
brought  about,  threw  itself  at  the  feet  of  Charles 
the  Second,  in  a  frenzy  of  loyalty,  without  coudi 
tions,  simply  entreating,  like  a  child  wearied  with 
its  own  wilfulness,  to  be  forgiven  and  governed  and 
kept  quiet,  yielding  every  precious  right — the  fruit 
of  our  forefathers1  blood  and  toil — into  his  hands, 
content,  if  he  had  been  strong,  to  be  made  as  ser 
vile  as  he  pleased  ;  ready,  alas,  he  being  not  strong 
but  weak  and  profligate,  to  be  made  as  base  as  (for 
the  time)  he  could  and  did  make  it. 

"  Such,"  said  Roger,  "  was  the  Aceldama  from 
which  that  strong  faithful  arm  had  saved  us." 


34  j  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

''Such,"  sighed  my  father,  "was  tne  en. I  of  th« 
most  beneficent  of  despotisms  that  could  not  be  im- 
mortal." 

Roger  never  ceased,  during  the  few  months  of 
the  Commonwealth,  to  do  all  he  could  to  carry  out 
what  he  believed  would  have  been  the  Lord  Pro- 
tector's wish,  doing  nis  utmost  to  serve  my  Lord 
Richard,  the  new  Protector,  and,  after  his  resigna- 
tion, to  keep  order  and  discipline  in  the  army.  But 
he  worked  with  little  hope.  During  all  the  times 
of  trial  before  or  since,  I  never  saw  him  so  down- 
east  and  desponding  as  then. 

When  once  the  Restoration  came  his  spirits  seemed, 
strangely,  to  rise  again. 

He  had  done  his  best;  and  the  worst  had  come. 
The  hopeless  struggle  without  a  chief  was  over,  and 
henceforth  he,  and  those  who  thought  with  him, 
must  gird  on  a  new  courage,  not  to  contend  but  to 
endure.  I  well  remember  how,  on  the  evening  of 
the  day  of  the  king's  entry  into  London,  he  came 
into  our  parlour,  and  unlaced  his  helmet,  and  quietly 
ungirding  his  sword,  laid  it  on  a  shelf  behind  the 
great  Family  Bible. 

lie  said  nothing,  but  the  action  spoke  ;  and  we 
understood,  and  also  said  nothing. 

Then  he  left  the  room,  and  after  a  time  came  down, 
with  every  vestige  of  the  old  armour  of  the  Iron- 
sides gone,  in  the  plain  dress  of  a  Puritan  gentle- 
man, and  sitting  down,  he  took  Maidie  on  his  knee, 
and  began  to  talk  to  her  cheerily 

It  oveicame  me  altogether  to  see  him  so,  for  I 
Knew  it  meant  that  he  had  given  up  all  hope  foi 
himself,  and  well-nigh  for  England,  and  the  fer%n 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA.  3^ 

fell  fast  on  my  sewing.  He  saw  them,  and  gently 
setting  Maidie  down,  he  came  and  sat  down  close 
by  me,  and  said, — 

"  Let  us  thank  God,  Olive.  The  old  army  has 
been  true  to  itself,  and  to  him  who  made  it  what  it 
was,  to  the  last. 

"  We  were  gathered  on  Black  Heath  to-day,  thirty 
thousand  of  us ;  enough  to  have  swept  the  king  and 
his  courtiers,  and  London  and  its  citizens,  into  the 
Thames.  We  had  done  more  than  that  before,  I 
think,  with  fewer  of  us.  And  we  know,  most  of 
us,  that  this  day  is  as  our  last;  the  last  of  the  old 
army  he  made.  Many  of  us  see  nothing  left  to  fight 
for,  and  will  go  back  quietly  to  farm  and  home,  to 
honest  toil  and  trade,  that  is,  if  they  will  let  us  ;  for 
there  are  not  a  few  of  us  that  look  for  a  halter  rather 
than  a  home  when  the  king  enjoys  his  own  again 
in  security.  They  will  hardly  trust  us  together  in 
force  again.  The  discipline  which  won  Naseby  and 
gained  Dunbar  never  wavered.  But  we  let  the 
royal  party  pass  quietly,  as  if  the  Lord  General  had 
given  the  word  of  command.  And  that,  I  think,  is 
something  to  give  thanks  for.  It  would  not  have 
been  well  to  tarnish  his  memory  by  disorders  he 
would  have  reproved." 

After  that,  the  great  army  of  the  Commonwealth 
died  away,  as  Roger  had  expected,  and  was  heard 
of  no  more,  except  when  aged  yeomen  and  trades- 
men, on  village  greens  and  in  city  homes,  now  and 
then  enkindled,  as  they  spoke  to  each  other  of  Nase- 
by, Dunbar,  Worcester,  and  Dunkirk,  into  an  en- 
thusiasm strange  to  the  next  generation,  who  haJ 


346  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

only  known  them  peacefully  labouring  in  the  field 
the  workshop,  or  at  the  forge. 

But  the  bones  of  the  Protector  had  not  yet  reached 
their  las4  resting-place.  On  the  3rd  of  January  1661 
the  anniversary  of  the  "  martyrdom  of  His  Sacred 
Majesty"  eleven  years  before,  the  body  of  the  "  great 
prince  "  was  once  more  disinterred,  with  that  of 
Bradshaw,  hanged  throughout  the  day  on  a  gibbet 
at  Tyburn,  and  at  night  thrown  like  that  of  a  dog 
into  a  pit  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows. 

It  was  a  marvellous  proof  of  the  just  judgments 
of  God,  some  of  the  Royalists  thought,  slow  but  sure. 

Roger  only  said,  when  he  could  speak  of  it  all, 
which  was  not  for  long,  "' After  that,  have  no  more 
that  they  can  do.'  They  have  done  the  worst.  And 
how  little  it  is,  that  even  the  basest  vengeance  could 
add  to  the  dishonour  of  the  dust,  and  the  worm, 
which  awaits  what  is  mortal  of  us  all !  The  dis- 
tance between  Tyburn  and  the  royal  tombs  in  the 
Abbey  is  little  indeed,  measured  from  heaven.  Nor 
will  it  take  longer  time  from  the  one  than  from  the 
other  to  hear  the  trumpet  when  it  sounds,  and  to 
obey  its  summons." 

"  But  England  is  dishonoured  by  the  deed." 

"  I  think  not,"  he  replied  ;  "  or  not  chiefly  by  that 
deed.  The  men  of  England  may  be  dishonoured 
that  they  did  not  acknowledge  him  living.  But  no 
grave  in  England  can  dishonour  him  dead,  or  can 
take  his  dust  from  the  faithful  kef  ping  of  his  native 
earth  ;  nor,  I  think,  can  all  men  may  do  keep  the 
day  from  coming  when  England  shall  feel  that  not 
oue  spot  only,  but  every  inch  of  English  earth  ii 


OX  hOTH  SILES   OF   THE  SEA. 


347 


made  more  sacred  by  Lis  feet  having  trodden  it, 
and  by  his  dust  bein^  mingled  with  it." 

Little  indeed  can  human  vengeance  add  to  the 
dishonour  of  death,  when  once  death  is  past. 

But  alas,  on  this  side,  how  much  is  possible  to 
human  cruelty  ! 

As  victim  after  victim  proved,  led  forth  to  the 
ignominy  and  the  protracted  anguish  of  the  traitor's 
death,  patiently  giving  up  their  souls  to  God  amidst 
such  agonies  as  the  torturer's  knife  could  inflict. 

Some  were  in  the  prime  of  life  and  strong  to  feel ; 
others  aged  and  weak  to  bear.  But  I  never  heard 
that  any  of  the  ten  who  so  suffered  dishonoured 
either  themselves,  what  they  deemed  "  the  good  old 
cause,"  England,  or  the  God  who  sustained  them, 
by  one  unworthy  word  or  moan. 

The  savage  punishment  of  treason  had  never  been 
inflicted  once  during  the  Commonwealth.  It  waa 
suffered  eleven  times  in  the  first  year  after  the  Re- 
storation. It  came  back  with  the  May-poles,  and 
the  beautiful  coats  of  many  colours,  and  courtly 
manners. 

The  king  was  present  at  some  of  these  executions. 
He  went  from  them  to  hear  the  beautiful  heavenly 
music  in  the  Royal  Chapel ;  or  to  listen  to  other 
music,  not  heavenly,  in  the  palace. 

But  the  people  grew  weary  of  this  soon.  It  w:t> 
feared  that  if  these  executions  were  too  often  repeated, 
the  minds  of  the  Commonwealth  might  once  more 
become  confused  about  the  enormity  of  the  crime, 
illogically  forgetting  it  in  the  enormity  of  the  pun- 
ishment     And    it   was  recommended   they  should 


?4.8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

not  be  continued ;  at  all  events,  not  so  near  th« 
royal  residence. 

But  amidst  all  the  restorations  —  which  to  ue 
teemed  not  going  forward  and  upward,  but  back- 
ward and  downward — there  was  one  which  brought 
me  some  peaceful  and  hallowed  hours. 

It  was  the  restoration  of  the  old  Liturgy. 

There  was  comfort  in  creeping  into  some  quiet 
corner  of  the  Abbey,  or  of  the  great  churches  .)f 
the  city,  to  join  in  the  old  familiar  sacred  words. 

It  was  rest  to  kneel  in  silent  adoration,  and  be 
certain  one's  heart  would  not  be  turned  aside  from 
lifting  itself  up  to  God,  by  any  allusions  to  the 
triumphs  or  the  reverses,  the  wrongs  or  the  re- 
venges, of  to-day. 

It  was  joy,  in  the  Te  Deum,  to  lose  sight  of  divi- 
sions and  factions,  and  with  the  glorious  company 
of  apostles,  the  goodly  fellowship  of  the  prophets, 
the  noble  army  of  martyrs,  the  holy  Church  through- 
out all  the  world,  to  praise  Him  of  the  majesty  of 
whose  glory  all  the  earth  is  full. 

It  was  strength  to  stand  up,  and  say  with  the 
Church  of  all  ages  and  lands  :  "  I  believe  in  God, 
the  Father  Almighty ;  and  In  Jesus  Christ,  His 
only  Son,  our  Lord ;  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  in 
the  holy  Catholic  Church,  and  in  the  resurrection 
from  the  dead." 

To  stand  up  above  the  graves,  and  under  the 
heavens,  and  say  this  to  God  ;  in  the  words  I  used 
in  my  childhood,  and  Lady  Lucy,  and  so  many  ol 
our  holy  dead  all  their  lives,  and  the  Church  for  so 
many  ages ;    words  which   had  outlived  so  mauj 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  3^ 

wars,  and  wftich  flowed  from  calm  depths  so  fai 
beneath  them  all. 

lettioe's    diary. 

"  Davena:nt  Hall,  June  1660. — The  country 
seems  in  a  delirium  of  delight  to  see  us  back  again, 
and  to  have  a  king  once  more. 

"  The  Usurper,  or  the  people  who  followed  him, 
must,  one  would  think,  have  made  England  very- 
wretched,  that  the  restoration  of  her  old  state  should 
drive  her  well-nigh  wild  with  joy. 

"  At  Dover,  where  His  Majesty  landed,  and  all 
along  the  road  to  London,  sober  men  and  women 
knelt  and  sobbed  out  blessings  on  him  !  Old  men 
thanked  God  they  saw  this  day  before  they  died ; 
Mothers  held  up  their  children  to  look  at  him,  that 
they  might  be  able  to  carry  on  to  children  and 
grandchildren  the  tradition  of  this  glorious  day  ! 

"Arches  of  trinmph  across  the  sober  old  streets  ; 
banners  from  the  windows,  mad  huzzas  from  the 
sober  crowds,  in  whose  costume  tarnished  relics  of 
old  Cavalier  gaieties  struggled  to  kindle  the  Puri- 
tan sobriety  into  colour.  Oh,  the  thrill  all  through 
the  heart  of  the  old  English  shout  of  welcome  and 
triumph,  the  old  English  cheer  !  Xo  wonder  Mar- 
shal Turenne  asked  what  it  meant  at  Dunkirk. 

"  Dear,  sober,  solid,  silent  old  England,  when  she 
goes  wild,  she  does  it  with  a  will.  Bells,  bonfims ; 
dumb,  patient  crowds  waiting,  well  content,  for 
hours,  just  for  the  moment's  sight  and  the  moment's 
shout  of  welcome.  The  attempts  to  utter  this  joy 
in  speeches  and  processions,  so  hopelessly  stiff  and 
39 


350  ON    BOTH  SIDES   OB    THE  SEA. 

cluuisy  and  inadequate,  that  laughter  and  tears  are 
kept  in  close  neighbourhood  all  the  time,  so  delight* 
fully  inadequate  to  utter  the  welcome  and  delights 
in  the  deep,  dumb  ocean  of  the  nation's  heart. 

"  So  glad,  so  crazy  with  joy,  to  see  us  back  again  ! 
Patient,  blind,  hopeful,  wilful,  loyal  old  mother  of 
us  all ;  and  why  ? 

"Eleven  years  ago  she" suffered  her  king  to  die  on 
the  scaffold ;  and  this  king,  I  think,  is  scarce  like  to 
be  better. 

"  It  is  strange  to  be  made  so  much  of  as  we  are 
by  all  the  neighbours  here.  No  one  has  been  very 
glad  to  have  us  for  so  many  years.  And  now  we 
are  all  heroes  and  heroines,  we  who  have  been  with 
the  king  in  his  exile.  They  cannot  hear  enough  of 
what  Ave  did  and  suffered  in  foreign  parts,  and  of 
the  bearing  of  the  royal  family  in  their  adverse  for- 
tunes. 

"  And,  in  truth,  we  have  come  rather  soon  to  the 
end  of  what  we  like  to  say  about  His  Majesty. 

"  Yet  His  Majesty  also  cannot  fail  but  be  swept 
on  with  the  joy  and  hope  of  the  nation. 

"  Surely,  surely  the  very  welcome  must  be  ennobl* 
iug  to  hiin  so  welcomed.  The  very  love  and  trust  of 
a  whole  people,  such  as  this,  must  inspire  His  Majesty 
to  be  worthy  of  the  feeling  he  inspires  ;  must  com 
fame  in  its  pure  fires  all  that  we  had  fain  see  con- 
sumed of  the  past ;  must  enkindle  in  his  heart  a 
returning  glow  of  kingly  patriotism,  which  shall 
hallow  it  into  an  altar  on  wh'ch  all  falser  and  baser 
Ores  shall  be  extinguished. 

"  I  had   scarce  thought  we  should   have  had  so 


VN  BO 771  SIDES  OF  Til E  SEA. 


35 


much  to  regret  in  leaving  France.  We  bad  always 
felt  it  so  completely  a  land  of  exile,  and  had  always 
so  hoped  our  sojourn  in  it  must  be  drawing  to  a 
close,  that  it  was  not  until  we  had  to  sever  them 
we  learned  how  many  ties  had  slowly  been  weav- 
ing themselves  around  us,  and  binding  our  hearts 
to  the  strange  country. 

"  Even  the  lofty  rooms  in  the  old  palace.,  which 
bad  seemed  such  mere  prison-chambers  when  we 
entered  them  ;  even  my  father's  old  enemy  '  the 
stone  woman,  who  could  never  empty  her  pitcher,' 
seemed  to  have  acquired  a  kind  of  right  in  us. 

"  Madame  la  Mothe  made  a  vain  attempt  at  soft- 
ening the  parting  with  congratulatory  little  plea- 
santries. They  broke  down  into  tears  and  tender 
reproaches,  her  heart  being  much  moved  at  the 
time,  moreover,  by  the  death  of  her  nephew,  for 
the  sake  of  whose  young  widow  she  consented  to 
remain  in  '  the  world  '  to  manage  the  family  estates. 

"  '  Thou  shouldst,  indeed,  have  a  heavy  weight  on 
thy  conscience,'  she  said  to  me,  '  with  all  thine  inno- 
cent looks.  My  poor  nephew  woirld  have  been  so 
happy  with  thee,  if  thou  wouldst  have  wedded  him; 
he  would  never  have  gone  to  the  wars  and  left  this 
poor  little  helpless  widow  to  my  guardianship.  Then 
my  nephew,  still  happily  surviving,  and  thou  mak- 
ing his  life  good  and  pleasant,  I  should  at  last,  per- 
haps, have  had  leisure  and  grace  to  make  a  thorough 
conversion.  I  should  have  gone  to  Port  Royal,  and 
thou,  being  brought  in  this  way  more  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  exemplary  piety  of  those  saintly 
ladies,  wouldst  once  more  have  considered  thy  here- 


^2  01.    BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

sies,  and  at  last  taken  that  little  step — that  o&»  little 
step  which  divides  thee  from  the  True  Fold.  Thus 
I  should  have  made  my  own  salvation  and  'chine  ; 
thou  the  salvation  of  mv  nephew.  So  all  might 
have  ended  like  a  romance  composed  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  youth.  And  now  see  the  contrast !  I  re- 
main in  the  world,  bound  to  it  by  this  poor  young 
widow  (with  whom  otherwise  I  have  no  fault  to 
find) ;  thou  returnest  to  thine  unbelieving  England. 
My  heart  feels  desolate  for  thee,  as  if  I  lost  thy 
mother  and  a  second  youth  in  losing  thee.  And, 
alas,  these  gentlemen  the  Jesuits  threaten  to  over- 
whelm Port  Royal.  Thus  everything  goes  on  to 
the  wrong  end.  Or,  if  the  romance  is  ever  to  end 
right,  there  must  be  another  volume,  another  vol- 
ume not  yet  even  begun,  quite  out  of  my  sight ; 
which  Heaven  grant  there  may  be  !  Heaven  grant 
there  be,  my  child,  here  or  hereafter.  For  me, 
certainly,  not  here ;  but,  if  Heaven  wills,  I  pray 
for  thee,  here  and  hereafter  also.' 

"  Barbe  was  sorely  distracted  between  me  and 
her  seven  sisters  and  brothers.  At  length  she  de- 
cided, with  many  tears,  that  duty  bound  her  to  her 
family. 

"  '  My  father  is  an  excellent  man,  mademoiselle, 
also  a  great  politician,  and  religious  as  a  pastor; 
but  in  the  affairs  of  the  earth,  mademoiselle,  he  is  a 
child,  blameless — but  a  child. 

"  '  And  there  are  these  seven  other  children.  I 
call  them  still  children,  because  I  am  five  years 
older  than  any  of  them,  and  because  they  were 
children  when  I  left  them  to  attend  mademoiselle, 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


353 


and  gain  a  living-  for  the  rest.  The  voung-esi  is  not 
yet  eleven.  The  oldest  is  scarcely  twenty.  He  is 
a  student,  learned  and  "  eloquent  (my  father  says) 
as  Demosthenes."  But,  unhappily,  not  endowed 
with  those  talents  which  earn  bread.  As  yet  I 
alone  have  developed  these  inferior  capacities ; 
transitory,  but,  alas,  so  necessary  in  a  world  where 
our  corn  has  to  be  baked  before  it  can  be  eaten,  and 
one's  flax  to  be  spun  before  it  can  be  worn.  What 
then  can  I  do  ?  If  my  father  should  at  last  obtain 
that  appointment  he  is  always  expecting  from  some, 
appreciating  statesmen,  or  one  of  the  children  should 
develop  these  inferior  gifts  for  earning  bread  ;  and 
if  then  mademoiselle  should  not,  in  the  splendour 
of  the  establishment  she  was  born  to  and  so  well 
deserves,  have  forgotten  her  poor  little  French 
Huguenot  maid —  ' 

"  But  here  Barbe's  eloquence  broke  down,  and 
she  wept. 

"  '  I  shall  never  forget  thee,  Barbe,'  I  said,  '  nor 
the  ten  thousand  lessons  of  self-denial  and  sweet 
temper  and  cheerful  diligence  I  have  learned  from 
thee.' 

"  '  But  mademoiselle  will  then  have  ladies  for  her 
attendants,'  sighed  Barbe,  who,  in  spite  of  all  1 
could  say,  had  formed  very  exalted  ideas  of  our 
destinies. 

"  '  Never  one  with  such  fingers  as  thine,  or  with 
a  better  heart,'  I  said. 

"  '  Then,'  sighed  Barbe,  as  she  delicately  arranged 
my  hair  in  lone  tresses,  '  it  might  yet  be.      His« 
tory,  my  father  says,  is   moie  romantic   than  t!i« 
30* 


3^4  0N  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

romances.      I  might  even  yet  arrange  again  this 
luxuriant  hair.' 

"  '  Scarcely  luxuriant  then,  Barbe;  or,  if  luxuriant 
gray,  and  only  fit  to  be  soberly  bound  beneath  some 
simple  coif  in  some  homely  fashion,  quite  unworthy 
of  thy  skilful  fingers.     You  found  three  white  haira 
yesterday.' 

"  '  Sorrow,  not  years  !'  she  said,  quietly.  '  Made- 
ra oiselle  has  allowed  me  sometimes  to  know  how  it 
was  she  understood  our  sorrows  so  well.' 

"  '  Sorrows  partly,  and  partly  years,  Barbe,'  I 
said.  '  This  Book  tells  us  the  years  are  leading  ua 
on  to  the  end  of  the  sorrows,  and  the  sorrows  train- 
ing us  to  enjoy  the  harvest  of  the  years.' 

"  And  we  shed  tears  together  as  she  read  the  in- 
scription I  had  written  on  the  large  French  Bible 
I  had  bought  her  as  a  souvenir. 

" '  Ah,  mademoiselle,'  she  said,  '  I  shall  always 
hear  your  voice  reading  it;  your  voice  and  my 
mother's,  the  kindest  I  have  ever  known  or  shall 
ever  know  till  I  meet  you  both  again.' 


"  I  saw  Mistress  Dorothy  in  the  crowd  at  the 
entry  into  London.  She  seemed  half-kneeling — an 
unspeakable  mark  of  honour  from  her  dear  inflexible 
Puritan  knees.  She  seemed  a  little  aged  ;  but  hei 
face  was  all  aglow  with  enthusiasm.  And  with  hei 
were  two  fair  rosy  children,  not  like  city  children, 
who  gazed  at  me  with  wide-open  wondering  eyes — 
those  of  the  eldest  dark  and  flashing,  like  Dr.  An- 
tony's ;  the  other  has  Olive's  eves.     I  think  she  has 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  35; 

told  them  something  of  Lettice,  little  Avild  Lettice 
Davenant.  They  looked  pleased,  and  yet  so  puzzled. 

"  My  eyes  went  past  them,  but  in  vain.  None 
else  of  the  old  Netherby  friends  was  there.  Alas, 
I  fear,  they  are  not  all  swept  into  this  tide  of  wel- 
come. 

"  Roger's  '  king,'  I  fear,  lies  silent  underground. 
Like  mine.  His,  buried  in  state  (they  say),  among 
the  kings  he  supplanted,  at  Westminster.  Mine,  laid 
in  silence  among  the  kings,  his  fathers,  at  Windsor. 

"  The  great  gulf  between  us  is  hardly  bridged 
over  yet. 

"Netherby  is  empty.  Mr.  Drayton  and  Mistress 
Gretel  are  in  London  with  Olive. 

"  This  old  place  is  in  such  order  as  if  we  had  left 
it  yesterday,  which  is  more,  I  think,  than  any  other 
of  the  exiled  Cavaliers  can  say  of  their  restored 
homes. 

"  I  know  how.  I  see  the  hands  that  did  it  all,  at 
every  turn,  in  every  nook,  in  every  flower  in  my 
mother's  terrace-garden  so  neat  and  trim,  in  every 
grove  and  arbour  of  the  Pleasaunce,  where  we  used 
to  ramble  in  the  old  days. 

'•  Ungrateful  that  I  am  !  I  could  almost  wish 
they  had  left  it  neglected.  I  could  almost  wish  the 
roses  had  run  wild,  that  the  flower-beds  had  returned 
to  the  possession  rf  forest  weeds,  the  smooth  turf 
run  up  into  long  wild  grasses,  that  the  terrace  walls 
were  green  and  moss-grown,  that  nature  had  been 
Buttered  to  run  into  the  elfish  kind  of  revels  she  likea 
to  p  ay  when  she  finds  her  way  once  more  into  gar 
dens  stolen  from  her  domain,  that  time  had  been 


j56  NO   BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

suffered  to  weave  the  tangled  garlands  wherewith, 
as  with  a  lavish  funereal  pomp,  he  is  wont  to  strew 
deserted  places  which  have  been  dear  to  human 
creatures. 

"  So  much  has  run  wild,  has  run  to  seed,  has  blos- 
somed and  shed  its  bloom  since  then  !  So  much  is 
gone  for  ever  and  for  ever,  it  is  almost  more  than  I 
can  bear  to  find  these  familiar  things  so  much  the 
same.  Ungrateful,  diseased  thoughts.  I  will  not 
give  them  a  minute's  voluntary  entertainment. 

"  Gone  ?  Nothing  worth  keeping  has  really  gone, 
not  one  blossom  worth  living  has  really  faded. 
They  have  not  faded,  they  have  fruited.  They  have 
fruited,  or  they  are  ripening  into  fruit,  sunbeam  by 
sunbeam,  shower  by  shower,  day  by  day.  Rich 
summer-time,  golden  harvest-time  of  life!  God 
forbid  that  I  never  speak  '  pulingly  '  (as  he  said), 
as  if  spring  faded  and  not  ripened  into  summer,  or 
dawn  died  instead  of  glowed  into  day. 

"And  most  of  all  this  is  so  with  thee,  mother, 
mother !  with  thee,  whose  lost  presence  makes  gar- 
den, terrace,  chamber,  so  sacred  and  so  sad.  I 
know  it — I  know  it !  Thy  dawn  was  full  of  tears, 
and  has  glowed  indeed  into  the  day.  I  know  it ; 
and  when  I  think  of  thee,  of  thee  and  Harry,  I  re- 
joice in  it. 

"  As  to  myself,  I  cannot  rejoice  at  it.  Noi  need  I 
try.  Thank  God,  I  need  not  freeze  my  heart  by 
vainly  trying  to  make  sorrow  not  sorrow.  The  sor- 
row is  my  share  of  it  now,  and  the  joy  is  to  come 
through  that,  through  opening  our  hearts  pa: icntly  to 
that,  not  by  closing  them  and  trying  to  make  somf 


OX  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  357 

wretched  artificial  sunshine  out  of  the  shadow  of  the 
cloud.  The  cloud  is  sent  to  bring  us  not  light,  but 
shadow  and  rain.  Behind  and  after  it  the  sunshine, 
when  the  time  comes  for  that ! 

"  1  thought  I  saw  Job  Forst  er  among  the  thirty 
thousand  on  Blackheath ;  the  terrible  thousands 
which  kept  France  and  Spain  and  Europe  in  awe  all 
these  years,  and  kept  us  out  of  England.  Why  they 
let  us  come  back  at  all  is  the  wonder.  For  they 
were  not  broken  nor  disordered,  but  compact  and 
strong  as  ever.  And  I  scarce  think  they  share  in 
the  welcome  the  nation  gives  us.  I  think  most  of 
us  breathed  more  freely  when  that  dread  host  was 
passed. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  Job  Forster  among  them.  Yet 
when  I  went  into  Netherby,  there  he  was  at  the  old 
forge,  working  away  as  steadily  and  soberly  as  if 
he  had  never  left  it,  instead  of  roaming  all  over  the 
world  at  the  beck  of  Oliver,  beating  army  after 
army — English,  Royalist,  Irish,  Scottish,  Spanish, 
on  field  after  field. 

"  I  could  scarce  trust  my  eyes.  I  was  half  afraid 
to  speak  to  him,  fearing  lest  he  should  give  me  but 
a  grim  greeting  as  a  fragment  of  the  "  malignant 
interest"  wherewith  they  have  dealt  somewhat 
sternly.  Beside  him  stood  a  lad  in  a  blacksmith's 
apron,  helping  him  at  the  forge,  with  a  curious  per- 
plexing half  resemblance  in  his  face,  which  perplexed 
me  like  a  strain  of  some  familiar  tune  interwover 
into  strange  music,. 

"  But  before  I  passed,  Job  looked  up  at  my  foot- 


,5S  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   TEE  SEA. 

steps,  and  seeing  me,  I  suppose  he  forgot  Naseby 
Worcester,  malignancy,  and  everything,  for  he 
.brew  clown  his  tools,  and  striding  forward,  took 
my  hands  in  both  of  his,  bhu'k  as  they  were,  and 
shook  them  till  the  tears  ran  down  my  face,  mostly 
for  gladness,  and  a  little  for  the  pain  in  my  fingers. 

"  '  Mistress  Lettice,  my  dear,'  he  said,  '  I  am  right 
glad  to  see  thee  back  again.  Come  how  ye  may,' 
he  added,  to  guard  himself  against  any  political 
concession — '  come  how  ye  may.' 

"  Then  Rachel  came  out  at  the  door  of  the  old 
cottage,  her  dear  quiet  face  little  aged  since  I  saw 
her  at  Oxford,  when  she  made  her  way  through 
the  royal  lines  to  find  her  wounded  husband  in 
the  prison.  Little  aged,  yet  somewhat  changed; 
ripened,  not  aged ;  less  of  outward  suffering,  more 
of  protecting  motherliness  in  her  ways  and  looka 
and  tones.  And  she,  too,  came  forward  and  court- 
seyed,  a  little  more  mindful  of  good  manners,  and 
bade  me  welcome,  in  words  like  the  Book  of  Ruth, 
to  my  country,  and  my  people,  and  my  father's 
house. 

"  How  SAveet  it  was  !  The  old  English  country 
tongue  ;  the  old  English  welcome,  shyly  suppress- 
ing twice  as  much  pleasure  as  it  uttered,  so  sweet 
that  I  could  say  nothing,  but  could  only  take  her 
hands  in  mine,  and  seek  refuge  in  tie  cottage,  and 
sit  quiet,  with  my  head  on  her  kind  old  heart,  until 
the  crowding  memories  and  joys  and  sorrows  and 
love  and  loss  which  stifled  each  other  into  silence 
found  their  outlet  in  a  burst  of  tears. 

"  It  was  soon    over.      And  then  a  pale  woman 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE   SEA.  3^ 

wi'.h  a  meek  still  face  came  forward  at  Rachel's 
bidding  from  a  dark  comer  of  the  room,  where 
she  had  been  sitting  sewing,  and  filled  me  a  cup 
of  fresh  water  from  a  little  basin  outside  the 
window. 

"  When  she  came  close  to  me  she  smiled,  and 
made  a  iittle  reverence.  And  the  smile  brought 
back  for  a  moment  the  youth  into  her  face.  And 
I  knew  at  once  she  was  Cicely,  Gammer  Grindle's 
grandchild.  Then  it  all  flashed  on  me  in  an  instant. 
I  had  found  where  the  strain  of  the  familiar  tune 
came  from  ;  the  lad  outside  was  her  son,  and  by 
Divine  right,  if  not  by  human  law,  Sir  Launcelot's 
heir. 

"  I  shook  her  hand,  and  she  lifted  it  to  her  lips 
and  kissed  it,  with  a  grace  which  brought  back  the 
day  when  that  pale  woman  had  danced  round  the 
May-pole,  laughing  and  rosy,  and  light-footed  and 
light-hearted,  with  so  many  looking  on  whose  faces 
we  should  not  see  ao-ain. 

"  I  shall  get  used  to  it  all  in  time.  But  now 
scarce  a  familiar  old  sight  or  sound  but  would  move 
me  to  tears,  if  I  did  not  repress  them  ;  as  I  do,  of 
course.  For  I  would  not  have  the  people  think  I 
came  back  among  them  with  a  sorrowful  heart,  or 
one  left  in  foreign  parts. 

"  And  how  can  they  understand  how  the  paths 
they  have  been  going  up  and  down  upon,  and  the 
doors  they  have  been  going  in  and  out  of  every  day 
these  eleven  years,  to  me  are  doors  into  a  buried 
past,  and  paths  trodden  by  feet  that  tread  ou/ 
earthly  ways  never  more  ? 


360  ON  BOTH  SID  EL    OF  THE  SEA. 

"  Yet  I  think  Rachel  understands  it,  for  as  I  wat 
coming  away  she  said,— 

'"There  has  been  One  walking  all  the  way  witn 
ns  all,  Mistress  Lettice,  all  the  time.  And  He 
knows  all.' 

"  It  was  just  the  stengthening  word  I  wanted  to 
turn  me,  from  the  past  to  the  Ever-Present,  from 
the  dead  to  the  Living,  for  all  live  unto  Him.  A 
glimpse  into  the  heart  of  the  Son  of  man,  I  think, 
such  as  Rachel  Forster  has,  gives  those  who  have  it 
a  vision  into  the  hearts  of  all  men. 

"  To  my  father  our  home-coming  is  well-nigh  un- 
mixed delight.  He  is  as  frolicsome  as  a  boy,  full  of 
schemes  for  re-uniting  and  reconciling  the  whole 
world,  by  means  primarily  of  ale  and  roast  beef. 
How  pleasant  it  is  to  hear  his  great  hearty  voice 
ringing  through  the  hall  and  court,  among  the  stab- 
les, giving  orders  about  the  stud,  the  farm,  tho 
hounds  ;  waxing  warm  over  Roundhead  insolence 
with  the  old  servants ;  cracking  jokes  with  the 
young  ones ;  mistaking  people  for  their  grand- 
fathers and  grandmothers  ;  and  making  his  way  out 
of  all  his  entanglements  by  chivalrous  old  courtly 
compliments  and  hearty  old  English  jokes ;  and 
through  all  never  ceasing  to  be  the  courtier  and 
the  master,  and  scarcely  ever  losing  his  temper,  ex- 
cept now  and  then  with  the  cool  mockeries  of  Ro- 
land, and  the  reckless  carriage  of  Walter  and  the 
courtiers  of  the  New  Court  whom  he  brings  to  see  us. 
Indeed,  it  needs  an  occasional  refreshing  of  my 
father's  recollection  of  the  days  of  the  Roundheads 
to  keep  his  loyalty  to  the  Old  Court  very  warm  to« 
wards  the  new." 


OX   liOTR   SI  DA'S   OF   'j  .IE  SKA.  56l 

oliye's  kecollections. 

Aunt  Dorothy  was  much  with  us  du  ing  the 
months  after  the  Restoration. 

She  Avas  marvellously  gracious  and  gentle  all  that 
time.  She  believed  that  Ave  had  suffered  for  our 
political  sius,  and  must  be  convinced  by  the  irresist- 
ible demonstration  of  failure  of  the  vanity  and  folly 
of  our  conduct ;  and  she  was  too  magnanimous  and 
too  confideKt  to  demand  confession.  It  must  now 
be  but  too  plain  to  us,  she  thought,  that  we  had 
erred  grievously,  and  she  only  hoped  our  retribu- 
tion might  not  be  too  grievous.  For  herself,  she 
forgave  us  our  follies  on  the  ground  of  their  failure. 
The  King  himself,  who  had  so  much  to  forgive, 
had  written  a  letter  from  Breda  offering  indemnity 
for  the  past  and  liberty  of  conscience  for  the  future 
and  should  she  be  more  rigid  than  His  Majesty  ? 
Far  from  it.  She  would  take  the  whole  family  under 
her  wing,  and  protect  us  as  far  as  lay  in  her  power 
from  the  consequences  of  our  transgressions. 

She  had  even  some  thoughts  of  extending  tolera- 
tion further  than  she  had  once  deemed  possible. 
Mr.  Baxter  deemed  a  church  government  possible 
which  might  include  "Diocesans,"  Presbyterians, 
aid  Independents;  and  a  Liturgy  which  might  be 
joined  in  by  moderate — very  moderate — Arraimans, 
aud  moderate  (she  feared  lukewarm)  Calvinists. 

She  si  arcely  saw  her  way  to  it.    If  any  one  could 
accomplish  such  a  thing,  Mr.  Baxter  might.     Some 
indulgence  ought,  perhaps  (if  possible),  to  be  ex- 
tended to  the  Prclatists,  on  account  of  their  loyalty 
31 


162  OX   BOTH   SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

Some  concessions  might  perhaps  be  made  to  the  In- 
dependents (among  whom  she  did  not  deny  were 
some  godly  men)  to  prevent  their  straying  further 
into  the  wilderness  of  the  Fifth  Monachy  party,  the 
Quakers,  and  the  Anabaptists.  Much  was  doubt 
less  due  to  charity.  And  when  once  tie  true  Pres- 
byterian order  was  established,  the  gates  of  Zion  re- 
built, and  her  walls — though  in  troublous  times — it 
was  to  be  hoped  that  the  sobei  beauty  of  her  friir 
towers  and  palaces  would  root  out  the  prelatical 
passion  for  Babylonish  splendours,  and  the  Indepen- 
dent predilection  for  new  ways,  and  "  holes  and 
corners,"  from  the  hearts  of  all  that  beheld. 

For  that  the  day  of  Presbyterial  triumph  had  at 
last  dawned  on  this  distracted  England,  she  would 
not  be  so  faint-hearted  as  to  doubt. 

Had  not  His  Majesty  three  times  signed  the 
Scottish  Convenant  ?  Had  not  the  divines  who  went 
to  see  him  at  Breda  been  suffered  to  listen  (unsus- 
spected  of  course  by  His  Majesty)  to  his  private 
devotions,  until  their  souls  were  moved  within 
them  ?  Had  not  the  excellent  Countess  of  Balcarrea 
told  Mr.  Baxter  how  satisfied  the  French  Presby- 
terian ministers  were  with  his  religious  disposi- 
tions? Had  not  Monsieur  Gaches,  pastor  of 
Charenton,  himself  written  to  Mr.  Baxter  how  His 
Majesty  attended  and  appreciated  the  French  Prot- 
estant services  ?  Had  not  Mr.  Baxter  himself  been 
appointed  one  of  His  Majesty's  chaplains?  And  if 
this  were  insufficient  grounds  for  confidence,  what 
honest  English  heart,  what  loyal  soul,  could  da~e  to 
doubt  that  a  young  king  vit  1  such  bitter  lesson? 


O.V  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  36* 

boQifll  him,  with  such  glorious  hopes  before  him, 
trusted  and  welcomed  as  never  king  had  been  by  the 
nation,  brought  back  (as  she  believed)  mainly  by  the 
agency  of  covenanted  soldiers,  and  the  prayers  and 
loyal  endeavours  of  Presbyterian  pastors  and  fcheii 
flocks,  would  be  faithful  to  his  oaths,  more  espeei 
ally  when  to  be  faithful  to  his  promises  was  to  be 
faithful  to  his  interests  ?  Was  there  not,  moreover, 
the  solemn  Conference  actully  going  on  among  the 
divines  of  the  various  parties  at  the  Savoy? 

Had  not  Mr.  Baxter  been  encouraged  to  state  all 
the  Puritan  objections  to  the  Prayer-book  to  the  full 
— to  propound  any  number  of  "queries,"  and  elab- 
orate any  number  of  alterations  ;  and  had  he  not 
embraced  the  privilege  to  the  full,  sparing  not  a 
restige  of  the  Babylonish  vesture?  Had  he  not, 
moreover,  in  a  fortnight,  drawn  up  an  amended 
Liturgy,  correcting  all  the  mistakes  of  the  ancient 
Prayer-book,  and  supplying  all  its  omissions? — a 
form  which,  if  there  must  be  forms,  might  satisfy  the 
most  scrupulous.  Had  not  even  the  learned  Dr. 
Gauden,  who  had  issued  that  most  affecting  Por- 
traiture of  His  Sacred  Majesty,  called  the  Icon  Ba- 
tilike,  shown  himself  most  unfeignedly  courteous 
and  conciliating,  and  hopeful  of  an  accommoda- 
tion ? 

All  these  considerations  set  Aunt  Dorothy  ou 
such,  a  lofty  pinnacle  of  hope,  that  she  suffered  even 
Annis  Nye  to  call  her  Friend  Dorothy  without 
open  rebuke,  and  was  suspected  of  meditating  a 
scheme  which  might  even  embrace  Anabaptists  ("if 
they  would  only  rebaptise  each  other,  and  not  bWs 


564  ON  B  )TH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 

pherae  other  people's  baptism")    and  Quakers,  !5 
they  would  hold  silent  meetings. 

The  moment  of  triumph  was  not  the  moment  for 
reproaches.  Aunt  Dorothy,  triumphing  over  us  all, 
m  fact,  tolerated  us  all  in  prospect. 

I  confess  it  was  sometimes  a  little  difficult  to  be 
thus  loftily  forgiven;  and,  indeed,  I  remember  once, 
when  in  a  moment  of  unparalleled  magninimity 
Aunt  Dorothy  loftily  extended  her  toleration  to  Dr. 
Martin  Luther,  saying  that,  although  she  could 
never  think  him  justified  about  some  things,  yet 
that  she  believed  after  all  ''he  was  right  in  the 
main,  poor  man,  and  great  allowance  must  be  made 
for  one  so  recently  set  free  from  Popery  ;"  that  Aunt 
Gretel  herself  was  roused  to  say  privately  to  me, 
"  Olive,  dear  heart,  I  believe  if  St.  Paul  were  to  ap- 
pear she  would  tell  him  that,  after  all,  she  believed 
he  was  right  in  the  main,  although  she  never 
could  think  he  was  justified  in  shaving  his  head  at 
Cenchrea,  but  great  allowances  were  to  be  made  for 
any  one  only  just  set  free  from  being  a  Pharisee.'  " 

There  were,  indeed,  a  few  symptoms  which  ruffled 
even  Aunt  Dorothy's  calm  loyal  confidence.  It 
was  unfortunate,  she  could  not  deny,  that  (in  conse- 
quence of  certain  legal  technicalities)  Mr.  Baxtei 
was  deprived  of  his  living,  the  former  vicar  dis- 
placed by  the  Commonwealth  having  at  once  en- 
tered on  it  as  his  right.  But  these  little  perplexi 
ties  were  sure  to  be  soon  set  right.  All  transfer 
ences  of  authority  were  sure  at  first  to  press  unjustlv 
on  some. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Baxter  had  been  offered  a 


ON  BOTH    SIDES    OF   THE  SEA  365 

bishopric.  He  had  declined  the  bishopric,  until  the 
Comprehension  for  which  the  Conference  was  la- 
bouring was  fully  accomplished.  But  the  bishopric 
had  been  offered,  the  chaplaincy  accepted  ;  and  who 
could  doubt  that  in  time,  if  he  wished,  his  living 
would  be  restored  ?  the  old  vicar  being,  moreover, 
scarce  able  to  preach  at  all,  and  sixteen  hundred 
communicants  having  sent  up  a  request  from  Kid- 
derminster for  the  restoration  of  Mr.  Baxter. 

It  was  also  unfortunate,  she  admitted,  that  many 
hundred  "painful  preachers"  had  been  suddenly 
removed  from  their  churches  on  the  same  grounds 
as  Mr.  Baxter;  but  the  Protector  and  his  triers 
(said  Aunt  Dorothy)  had  set  an  ill  example,  and  ill 
fruit  must  be  expected  to  grow  of  it. 

Then  there  were  some  severe  dealings  with  books. 
Mr.  John  Milton's  "  Defence  of  the  English  People  " 
was  burned  at  Charing  Cross  by  the  public  hang- 
man. But  at  that,  said  Aunt  Dorothy,  no  loyal  per- 
son could  wonder,  seeing  that  thei'ein  he  had  dared 
to  speak  of  the  late  king's  execution  as  a  great  and 
magnanimous  act.  Properly  regarded,  it  was  in- 
deed a  singular  proof  of  His  Majesty's  clemency 
that  Mr.  Milton's  book  only  was  burned,  and  not 
Mr.  Milton  himself. 

The  public  burning  of  the  Covenant  was  a  more 
doubtful  act.  This  she  saw  with  her  own  ejes  at 
Kidderminster,  in  the  market-place,  before  Mr.  Bax- 
ter's windows.  The  king  had  signed  it  and  sworn 
to  it,  and  there  were  excellent  things  in  it.  But 
there  was  no  denying  it  had  been  used  to  seditious 
ends.     Some    (concluded   Aunt    Dorothy,    pressed 


366  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

hard  for  a  Scriptural  example)  had  ground  the  bra- 
zen serpent  to  powder  because  it  had  been  made  an 
idol.  And  she  had  little  doubt,  with  reverence  she 
said  it,  Moses  would  have  done  the  same  with  the 
very  Tables  of  the  Law,  if  they  had  been  similarly 
desecrated.  The  Ark  itself  was  not  spared,  but 
uffered  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Philistines 
when  Israel  would  have  used  it  like  a  heathen 
charm. 

Nevertheless,  with  these  arguments  I  believe 
Aunt  Dorc*.y  herself  was  not  easy  ;  she  was  driven 
to  them  by  Job  Forster,  who  had  asked  her  one 
day,  with  a  grim  irony,  how  she  liked  the  new 
doings  in  Scotland,  the  execution  of  Argyle,  the 
forcing  of  Prelacy  and  the  Prayer-book  on  the  un- 
willing Presbyterian  people,  and  the  burning  oi  the 
Covenant  in  Edinburgh. 

But  as  the  months  of  1661  passed  on,  and  the 
Conference  stood  still,  whilst  Mr.  Baxter  and  the 
other  deprived  ministers  were  not  restored,  Aunt 
Dorothy's  lofty  confidence  gradually  changed  into 
an  irritable  apprehension,  which  took  the  form  of 
vehement  indignation  against  all  Avho  refused  to 
believe  in  the  favorable  issue  of  events,  or  who,  as 
she  believed,  stood  in  the  way  of  it.  And  it  often 
moved  me  much  to  see  how,  with  ingenious  fond- 
ness, like  a  mother  with  a  wild  son,  she  laid  the 
blame  on  the  servants  of  the  house,  on  the  riotous 
company  or  grudging  hospitality  of  the  far  country, 
on  the  very  management  of  the  home  itself  rather 
lhan  on  the  royal  prodigal. 

A  large  portion  of  this  diverted  current  of  wrath 


ON  LOTH  Si  DA'S   OF  THE  SL'A. 


36/ 


was  poured  on  the  Queen-mother,  Henrietta  Maria, 
who  held  open  celebration  of  Roman  Catholic  rites 
in  her  palace. 

To  any  information  concerning  the  appropria- 
tion of  apartments  in  the  king's  palace  to  the 
king's  "  lady  "  or  "  ladies,"  she  refused  absolutely 
to  listen.  "  It  is  written,"  said  she,  "  thou  shalt  not 
speak  evil  of  the  ruler  of  thy  people.  But,"  she 
added,  "if  any  one  were  to  blame,  it  was  the  party 
that  had  exposed  him  to  the  seductions  of  his 
mother  Jezebel,  and  the  idolatrous  foreign  court. 
Indeed,  who  can  doubt  the  pureness  of  the  king's 
Protestant  principle,  which  (even  if  his  morals  had 
been  a  little  contaminated)  had  resisted  Papistical 
enticements  so  long  ?" 

The  scene  in  Whitehall,  where  the  king,  under  a 
canopy  of  state,  laid  his  hands  on  those  who  were 
brought  to  him  to  heal  them  of"  the  king's  evil," 
while  the  chaplain  repeated  the  words,  •'  He  laid 
His  hands  on  the  sick  and  healed  them"  was  indeed 
a  sore  scandal  to  her.  It  made  her  very  indignant 
with  the  chaplain,  who  had  misguided  His  Majesty. 

"  Mr.  Baxter  must  be  careful,"  she  said,  "  how  he 
conceded  too  much  to  the  Prelatical  party." 

Bat  the  chief  force  of  her  wrath  was  directed 
against  the  Queen-mother,  who,  she  said,  had  ruined 
one  king  and  one  generation  of  Englishmen,  and 
was  doing  her  best  to  ruin  a  second;  against  the 
Queen-mother  and  the  Fifth  Monarchy  men. 

To  the  insurrection  of  Venner,  the  winecooper,  ic 
January  1661,  she  attributed  the  delay  and  disap- 
pointment in  the  Conference.     II )w  was  a  yourg 


•  68  01    BOTE  SIDES    OF  HIE  SEA. 

king,  kept  in  exile  so  long,  to  learn  in  a  moment 
to  distinguish  between  the  various  sects,  or  not  to  be 
induced  by  such  fanatical  outbursts  to  believe  the 
evil  ad  risers  who  persuaded  him  that  outside  the 
ancient  Episcopal  Church  lay  nothing  but  a  slippery 
descent  from  depth  to  depth  ? 

Still  she  hoped  on  from  month  to  month,  or  pro- 
tested that  she  did,  although  her  bopes  made  her 
less  and  less  glad,  and  more  and  more  irritable, 
until  she  tried  all  our  tempers  in  turn.  All  except 
Roger's.  His  patience  and  gentleness  with  her  was 
unwearied. 

:'I  know  what  she  is  feeling,  Olive,"  he  said.  "  I 
went  through  it  all  between  the  Protector's  death 
and  the  Restoration ;  hoping  against  hope.  It 
strains  temper  and  heart  as  nothing  else  does.  She 
will  have  to  give  it  up,  and  then  she  will  be  all 
right  again." 

"  Give  up  hoping,  Roger  ?  "  I  said. 
"  Give  up  hoping  against  reason,  give  up  trying 
to  persuade  oneself  down  hill  is  up  hill,  and  evening 
morning,"  he  said,  "  and  going  into  the  cloud 
coming  out  of  it ;  giving  up  trying  to  see  things  as 
they  are  not,  Olive.  Seeing  things  as  they  are,  and 
still  hoping,  that  makes  the  spirit  calm  again.  Hop- 
ing, knowing,  that  the  end  of  the  road  is  up  the 
heights,  not  into  the  abysses  ;  that  the  evening  is 
only  a  foreshadowing  of  the  morning  that  shall  not 
tarry;  that  the  sun  and  not  the  cloud  abides.  That 
the  Lord  Christ,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  to 
tones  which,  soft  as  a  whisper,  vibrated  through 
my  heart  like  thunder,  "  and  not  the  devil,  has  all 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THR    SEA.  j6$ 

power  in  heaven  and  in  earth,  and  that  His  king- 
dom shall  have  no  end." 

"  Your  hope  is  for  the  Church,  Roger,  but  not  for 
England." 

His  face  kindled  as  he  answered, — 

"Not  for  England?  Always  for  England! — for 
England  everywhere  !  Now  ;  in  the  ages  to  come  ; 
on  this  side  of  the  sea,  on  the  other  side  of  the  sea  ; 
in  the  Old  World  and  in  the  New;  under  the 
bondage  of  this  profligate  tyranny,  which  must 
wear  itself  out  as  surely  as  a  putrifying  carcass 
must  decay ;  in  the  wilderness,  where  our  people 
are  beginning  a  story  more  glorious,  I  believe,  than 
all  the  heroic  tales  of  old  Greece." 

For  at  that  time,  whilst  doing  all  in  his  power  by 
promoting  concord  amongst  Christians  to  aid  Mr. 
Baxter  and  the  ministers  who  were  seeking  for 
"healing  and  settlement,"  and  whilst  sharing  my 
husband's  labours  among  those  in  prison,  Roger 
began  to  look  with  a  new  interest  on  the  tidings 
which  came  to  us  from  the  Plantations,  especially 
those  concerning  Mr.  John  Eliot,  who  was  labour- 
ing to  convert  the  poor  Indian  natives  to  Christi- 
anity. In  this  he  and  Aunt  Dorothy  had  much 
sympathy.  Mr.  Baxter  had  always  taken  a  lively 
interest  in  this  missionary  work.  Collections  hud 
been  made  during  the  Commonwealth  to  aid  in 
supporting  evangelists,  and  aid  in  translating  the 
Bible  and  good  books  into  the  languages  of  the 
natives ;  and  now,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  conferences 
and  contentions,  Mr.  Baxter  was  labouring  at  ob- 
taining a  charter  for  a   Society  for   Propoaiiina  tlu 


j;o  0-V   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts.  And  in  this  he  succeeded 
At  that  time  a  manuscript  was  much  in  Roger's 
hanis,  containing  a  copy  of  Journals  of  the  early 
Purtan  settlers  of  forty  years  before.  He  found  it 
the  best  lesson  of  true  hope  he  had  ever  read.  And 
during  the  winter  evenings  of  1661  he  would  often 
recite  passages  aloud  to  us.  Amidst  the  misunder- 
standings of  good  men  and  the  conflicts  of  part  ^.s, 
it  was  like  a  breath  of  bracing  wind  to  listen  ~.o 
those  conflicts  of  our  countrymen  with  rains  and 
snows  and  storms,  and  all  the  hardships  of  the  wild 
country  peopled  by  wild  beasts  and  wilder  men. 
As  in  the  Bible  stories,  there  was  little  making  of 
sermons  or  drawing  of  morals  in  this  narrative. 
The  whole  story  was  a  sermon,  and  engraved  its 
own  moral  on  the  heart  as  it  went  on.  In  tl  ree 
months  half  the  first  noble  pilgrim  band  died,  of 
cold  and  wet,  insufficient  shelter  and  insufficient 
food.  The  original  hundred  were  reduced  to  fifty. 
Fifty  living,  and  fifty  graves  to  consecrate  the  new 
country.  Then  the  grave  had  to  be  levelled  indis- 
tmguishably  into  the  sweep  of  the  earth  around,  lest 
the  hostile  Indians,  seeing  them,  should  violate 
them.  Yet  never  a  moan  nor  a  murmur.  Their 
trust  in  God  revealing  itself  in  their  patience  and 
courage,  their  cheerfulness  and  unquenchable  hope. 
And  now  for  the  fifty  were  more  than  twenty 
thousand ;  and  the  wilderness  had  become  a  place 
of  English  homesteads  and  villages,  fondly  called  by 
the  old  English  names. 

As  Roger  read  and  told  us  of  these  things  the 
world  grew  round  to  me  for  the  first  time.    I  began 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 


37» 


to  see  tlu're  was  another  side  to  it.  And  the  vision 
of  this  new  world — this  new  English  world — rose 
before  me  as  a  new  Land  of  Promise,  which  if  per- 
secution ever  made  this  England  for  the  time  "  the 
wilderness,"  might  be  a  refuge  for  our  suffering 
brethren  again. 

Not  indeed  for  us.  I  did  not  think  so  much  of 
ourselves:  our  convictions  were  moderate  and  our 
lives  peaceable ;  and  the  Star  Chamber  was  not 
likely  to  be  re-established  within  the  memory  of  the 
generation  that  had  destroyed  it.  But  the  Ana- 
baptists, and  the  more  decided  Independents,  who 
objected  to  all  forms  of  prayer,  and  the  Quakers, 
might  find  such  an  asylum  yet  very  welcome.  Al- 
ready there  were  four  thousand  Quakers  in  prison. 
Some  had  been  shut  up,  sixty  in  a  cell,  and  had  died 
of  bad  air  and  scanty  food.  For  sober  Presbyterians, 
like  Aunt  Dorothy  and  Mr.  Baxter,  or  moderate 
people  attached  with  few  scruples  to  the  Liturgy, 
like  my  father,  my  husband,  and  myself,  there 
might  not  indeed  be  the  triumph  in  store  of  which 
Aunt  Dorothy  dreamed.  But  of  persecution  or 
imprisonment  we  did  not  dream.  The  tide  could 
never  rise  as;ain  in  our  lifetime  as  high  as  that. 

It  perplexed  us  much  that  during  all  these 
months  we  saw  nothing  of  thf  Davenants.  We  did 
not  chance  to  be  at  Netherby  during  the  year  1001 , 
or  the  beginning  of  1662.  My  father  had  rheumatism, 
and  was  ordered  not  to  winter  on  the  Fens;  my 
husband  was  much  occupied;  so  that  we  did  not 
have  our  usual  summer  holiday.  Lettice  and  Sir 
Walter,  we  hear  1,  were  for  a  time  in  London,  about 
the  Court;  but  we  saw  nothing  of  them. 


y/2  ON  BOTH    SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

The  children  who  were  at  Netherby  brought  back 
wonderful  stories  of  the  sweet  lady  at  the  hall; 
and  Maidie  especially  was  inspired  with  a  love  for 
her  which  reminded  me  of  the  fascination  of  Lady 
Lucy  over  me  in  my  own  childhood. 

I  felt  sure  Lettice's  heart  could  not  change.  Had 
her  will,  then,  grown  so  weak  that  she  dared  not 
make  one  effort  to  break  through  the  barriers  which 
separated  us  ? 

Or  was  it,  rather,  stronger  and  more  immovable 
than  I  had  thought  ?  Did  she  indeed  still  refuse 
indemnity  to  the  political  offences  of  the  Common- 
wealth ?  Could,  indeed,  no  lapse  of  time  efface,  no 
shedding  of  traitors'  blood  expiate,  the  shedding  of 
that  royal  blood  which  separated  her  from  Roger  ? 

Nothing  but  repentance  ? — the  repentance  he 
could  never  feel  without  desecrating  the  memory  of 
that  good  prince  who,  as  he  believed,  had  been 
trained  by  God,  through  conflict  within  and  with- 
out, anointed  by  wars,  and  crowned  by  victory 
after  victory,  to  be  such  a  ruler  as  England  had 
never  known,  over  such  an  England  as  the  world 
had  never  seen. 

What  Roger  thought,  I  knew  not.  He  neve- 
mentioned  the  name  of  any  of  the  Davenants,  except 
that  of  Walter,  the  youngest,  who  seemed  to  come 
to  him  from  time  to  time,  and  whom  I  saw  once  at 
his  lodgings,  and  did  not  recognize  till  after  he  hac 
left,  Avhen  Roger  told  me  who  he  was. 

For  I  remember  Walter  Davenant  a  light- 
hearted  boy,  with  frank  face  and  bearing,  and  eyes 
like  his  mother's.     And  this  Walter  Davenant  had 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 


373 


a  manner  half  reckless  and  halt*  sullen ;  a  dresa 
which,  with  all  its  laces  and  plumes  and  tassels, 
looked  neglected  ;  and  restless,  uneasy  eyes,  whk;h 
never  steadily  met  yours. 

"Is  that  Lettice  Davanent's  brother  Walter?"  I 
said 

"  It  is  Walter  Davenant,  one  of  the  courtiers  of 
King  Charles  the  Second." 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  yours,  Roger." 

"  He  is  Lettice's  brother,"  he  replied  ;  "an!  she 
asked  me  to  see  him  sometimes  ;  and  now  and  then 
he  likes  to  come." 


32 


Chapter   X. 


LETTICE'S     DIARY". 


UGUST  19.— My  father's  wide-em- 
bracing  schemes  of  correspondence 
and  reconciliation  have  been  some- 
— '  what  narrowed.  My  brother  Roland 
has  been  with  ns,  and  one  or  two  of  his  friends 
about  the  Court ;  and  he  has  possessed  my  father 
with  dark  and  chilling  thoughts  of  the  Puritans. 

"  Indeed,  there  is  an  icy  touch  of  cynical  doubt 
in  Roland  which  seems  to  take  the  glow  out  of 
everything.  lie  does  not  assail  any  person,  or  any 
party,  or  any  belief.  All  parties,  he  protests,  are 
good,  to  a  certain  extent,  in  their  measure,  and  for 
their  time.  But  he  makes  you  feel  he  scorns  you 
as  a  fond  and  incredulous  fool  for  bjiieving  in  any 
person,  any  party,  or  any  truth,  with  the  kind  of 
faith  which  leads  to  sacrificing  oneself. 

"  The  king,  he  says,  declares  that  '  nothing  shall 
ever  part  him  again  from  his  three  kingdoms;'  and 
the  king  never  says  a  foolish  thing. 

'  According  to  Roland,  all  enthusiasm  is  either 
in  foolish   men,  fanaticism,  or,   in    able   men,  the 

(374) 


CLV   BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  3Jb 

hypocrisy  of  fanaticism,  put  on  to  deceive  the 
fanatics. 

"  When  my  father  declaims  against  Oliver  Crom- 
well as  a  wild  fanatic,  and  records  instances  of  the 
destruction  of  painted  windows  and  the  desecra- 
tion of  churches,  Roland  shrugs  his  shoulders, 
slightly  raises  his  eyebrows,  smiles,  and  says : — 

"  '  No  doubt,  that  is  what  he  would  have  had 
Job  Forster  and  his  fellows  believe.  For  himself, 
his  fanaticism  had  the  fortunate  peculiarity  of  al- 
ways constraining  him  to  climb  as  high  as  he  could. 
But  he  should  not  be  too  severely  blamed.  What 
can  a  shrewd  man  do,  when  he  sees  every  one  tak- 
ing the  same  road,  but  travel  a  little  faster  than 
the  rest,  if  he  wishes  to  keep  first  ? ' 

" '  Surely,'  said,  I  '  you  cannot  deny  that  the 
Puritans  were  sincere  ?  ' 

"'At  first,  probably,  many  of  them,1  he  said, 
'  When  they  had  only  two  mites  to  give,  doubtless 
they  gave  them.  It  is  the  destiny  of  mites  to  be 
spent  in  that  manner.  Happily  for  the  widow  in 
the  New  Testament,  her  subsequent  history  is  not 
told.' 

"  '  For  shame,  sir  ! '  said  my  father.  '  Say  what 
you  like  of  the  Puritans  of  to-day  ;  I  will  suffer  no 
profane  allusions  to  the  good  people  who  lived  at 
the  Christian  era.' 

"'Pardon  me,  sir!'  retorted  Roland.  'Anno 
Domini  has  no  doubt  made  those  who  lived  near 
it  Bacred;  except,  of  course,  the  Pharisees  aud  a 
few  other  reprobates,  who  arc  fair  mark.  Put  I 
assure  you,  nothing  could  be  further  from  my  in- 
tention than  to  cast  the  slightest  imputation  on  that 


Sje  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

excellent  widow.  I  only  suggest  that  if  her  cir- 
cumstances improved,  no  doubt  her  views  enlarged 
with  them.  She  would  naturally  feel  that  while 
two  mites  might  be  bestowed  without  -regard  to 
results,  larger  possessions  involved  wider  responsi- 
bilities, and  must,  therefore,  be  dispensed  with  more 
prudence ;  as  the  Rabbis  (who,  no  doubt,  we  should 
charitably  suppose,  started  with  intentions  as  pure) 
had  found  out  before.' 

"  '  Speak  plainly,'  said  my  father ;  '  none  of  your 
Court  riddles  for  me.  Do  you  mean  to  say  the 
Puritans  were  like  that  good  widow  or  like  the 
Pharisees  ? ' 

"  '  Sir,'  replied  Roland,  '  you  must  excuse  me  if 
my  charity  reaches  to  a  later  century  than  yours. 
You  forbid  any  imputations  on  the  early  Christians ; 
I  decline  to  make  any  against  those  of  a  later  date. 
I  would  leave  the  sentence  to  events.  Before  long 
there  is  reason  to  hope  that  many  of  the  Puritans 
will  once  more  have  an  opportunity  of  proving 
their  principles,  and,  if  they  like,  of  returning  to 
the  exemplary  condition  of  the  widow  with  the 
one  farthing.' 

"  '  What  do  you  mean  ?  There  are  to  be  no  con- 
fiscations.' 

" '  I  mean  that  the  Savoy  Conference  will,  I  think, 
issue  otherwise  than  Mr.  Baxter  and  his  friends  de- 
sire. Presbyterian  shepherds,  Independent  lions, 
and  Episcopal  lambs  will,  I  think,  scarcely  at  pre- 
sent be  made  to  lie  down  in  the  ample  fold  of  the 
Church  ;  and  the  sheep  to  whom  the  fold  naturally 
belongs,  cannot,  of  course,  be  expected  tr.>  with, 
draw,    especially    after    having  tried    the     tendei 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA. 


377 


mercies    of    the   outside  world    as    long   as    they 
have. 

"  '  It  is  all  the  clergy  ! '  said  my  father,  provoked 
into  in  discriminating  irritation  with  some  one,  as 
he  always  is  in  discussions  with  Roland.  '  It  is 
always  the  parsons  and  the  preachers  who  won't 
let  the  people  be  quiet.  Banish  them  all  to  the 
plantations,  and  we  should  have  peace  to-morrow." 

"  '  And  twice  as  many  parsons  and  preachers  to 
break  it  the  day  after  to-moiTOW,'  said  Roland. 
'  They  have  been  trying  it  in  England  for  these 
eleven  years ;  and  I  think  you  will  find  that  has 
been  the  result.' 

"  '  Roland,'  said  my  father,  changing  the  conver- 
sation, '  we  must  find  some  way  of  showing  our 
gratitude  to  the  Draytons.  Every  corner  of  tho 
demesne  is  in  better  order  than  I  left  it.' 

"  '  Mr.  Drayton  is  a  clear-sighted  man,'  was  the 
reply,  '  and  no  doubt  foresaw  that  the  rightful 
owners  would  return.  However,  we  cannot  be  too 
grateful ;  and  no  doubt  circumstances  will  give  us 
opportunities  of  returning  his  kindness.  He  will 
scarcely  escape  some  little  fines,  which  we  can  get 
lightened.  Besides,  they  are  sure,  sooner  or  later, 
to  get  entangled  with  some  of  the  laws  against 
conventicles;  Mistress  Dorothy,  or  some  of  them. 
It  is  the  way  of  the  family.  And  then  we  can  bo 
the  mouse  to  nibble  the  lion  s  net.' 

"  'At  least,'  I  said,  '  you  cannot  accuse  the  D~ay 
jOus  of  hypocrisy.' 

"  '  Scarcely,'  he  replied,  coolly  '  they  are  on  the 
Olher  side  of  the  balance,  where  conscience  weighs 


37g  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

heavier  than  brains.  But  at  all  events,'  he  added, 
turning  to  my  father,  '  we  are  sure  to  be  able  to 
assist  Mr.  Drayton's  son ;  for,  from  all  I  hear,  he  is 
scarcely  out  of  the  circle  of  those  who  are  liable 
to  the  punishment  of  treason,  so  that  you  may  set 
your  mind  quite  at  rest,  sir,  as  to  having  oppor- 
tunities of  showing  our  gratitude.' 

"  I  know  he  said  this  to  silence  me.  And  it  did 
silence  me.  I  dared  not  defend  the  Draytons,  for 
fear  of  further  rousing  my  father  against  them. 

"  But  Walter,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  de- 
bate hitherto  with  some  amusement,  here  broke  in. 

"  '  Roger  Drayton  is  no  traitor,'  said  he.  '  He 
took  the  wrong  side,  unfortunately  for  him,  and 
you  the  right  side;  but  a  more  loyal  gentleman 
does  not  breathe.' 

"  '  That  depends  on  the  construction  the  crown 
lawyers  set  on  loyalty,'  retorted  Roland. 

And  the  conversation  ceased. 

"August  20th. — After  that  discussion,  Roland  had 
a  walk  with  my  father  round  the  estate,  and  the 
next  morning  he  said  to  me  : — 

"  '  I  will  not  have  the  family  disgraced,  Lettice, 
by  Walter's  reckless  ways.  If  he  must  beg  or 
borrow,  let  him  beg  or  borrow  of  some  of  those 
gay  courtiers  who  help  him  to  spend.  Not  of  a 
man  like  Roger  Drayton,  to  whom  we  already  owe 
too  much — a  Puritan,  too,  a  soldier  of  the  us  irper; 
and,  for  aught  I  know,  a  regicide.' 

"  '  Did  Walter  borrow  of  Roger  Drayton  ?'  I  said, 
and  this  time  I  could  not  help  flushing  crimson. 

"'Yes,  yes!'  he  replied,  angrily;     and  Boland 


OX  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 


379 


say?,  moreover,  child  it  was  thou  who  introduced 
theui  to  each  other.  I  will  have  no  clandestine 
intercourse,  Lettice.     Thou  shalt  see  I  will  not  ! ' 

"  '  Father.'  I  said,  rising,  '  has  Roland's  poiso  )ous 
tongue  srone  as  far  as  that?  Does  he  dare  to  accuse 
me  or  Eoger  Drayton  of  that?  If  you  wish  to 
know  what  the  understanding  between  Roger  Dray- 
ton and  me  is,  it  is  this — I  thought  you  knew  it ; 
my  mother  did.  "VVe  have  promised  to  be  true  to 
each  other  till  death,  and  beyond  it,  for  ever.  And 
the  promise  was  scarce  needed.  For  the  love  that 
makes  it  sacred  was  there  before.' 

"  For  they  had  called  Roger  a  traitor.  And  it 
was  no  time  to  measure  words. 

"  I  write  these  down,  because  I  like  to  see  them, 
as  well  as  to  remember  that  I  said  them. 

"  My  lather  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  '  Prettv  words,'  he  said,  '  for  a  lady  who  rec- 
ognizes the  divine  right  of  kings,  parents,  and  all  in 
authority.' 

"  He  paced  up  and  down  the  room  for  some  time, 
speaking  to  himself. 

" '  Very  strange,  very  strange,'  he  said ;  '  up  to 
a  certain  point  as  gentle  as  her  mother ;  and  once 
past  that,  like  a  lioness.     Very  strange.' 

"And  then  still  to  himself, — 

"  "Tis  a  pity;  'tis  a  thousand  pities.  If  he  had 
been  anything  but  what  Roland  says  every  one  says 
lie  is  ;  if  he  had  been  only  a  little  misled!  But  now 
impossible  ;  of  course,  impossible  ! 

""Tis  a  pity,  Lettice,'  he  then  said  to  me  in  a 
vexed  tone, but  very  courteously.    '  Roliud  told  me 


38o  ON   BOTH  HIDES   OF  THE  SEA, 

of  a  neighbour  of  ours,  a  good  and  loyal  gentleman, 
who  would  be  but  too  proud  of  the  honour  of  ray 
daughter's  hand.  As  fine  an  estate  as  any  in  the 
country,  and  marching  with  our  own.  'Tis  a  pity, 
child,  for  I  should  not  have  lost  thee.  And  I  should 
do  ill  without  thee.' 

"  '  You  will  not  lose  me,  father,'  I  said. 

"  '  Nay,  nay,'  he  said,  '  thou  art  one  to  be  trusted, 
I  know  that  well.  Never  believe  I  doubt  that,  Let- 
tice,  for  any  hasty  word  I  speak.  Never  believe  I 
doubt  that.' 

"  And  he  kissed  me  and  went  his  way. 

"  No,  he  does  not  doubt  me.  But  there  is  some- 
thing in  Roland  which  tempts  one  to  doubt  every- 
thing and  every  one. 

"  Did  I  say  his  touch  was  icy  ?  Would  it  were 
only  that.  Frost  rouses  nature  to  a  vigorous  resist- 
ance, or  checks  it  with  strengthening  repression. 
There  is  a  healthy  frost  of  doubt  which  kills  the 
insects  which  infest  piety,  and  checking  the  too  lux- 
uriant growths  of  faith  with  a  wholesome  cold, 
braces  them  from  mere  leafage  to  solid  stem  and 
fruit. 

"  But  Roland's  influence  is  not  the  wholesome 
winter  of  doubting  and  inquiring,  which  seems  to 
interpose  between  the  successive  summers  of  ad- 
vancing faith,  testing  its  roots.  It  is  a  languid  at- 
mosphere of  doubt,  in  which  everything  is  alike  un- 
certain ;  everything  alike  mean,  worthless,  earthly. 
The  disbelief  in  goodness  itself,  and  truth  itself, 
which,  like  a  pestilential  malaria,  rises  from  th« 
sloughs  of  a  wicked  life,  such  as  our  Court  encou/ 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  3gi 

ages.  In  the  depth?  of  its  degradation  I  be/ieve  he 
himself  scorns  to  soil  the  sole  of  his  foot.  But  he 
stands  on  the  edge  and  breathes  the  poison  into  his 
brain,  and  breathes  it  out  again  in  bitter  and  cynical 
talk. 

"  While  poor  reckless  Walter,  capable  not  merely 
of  creeping  safely  along  the  dull  wayworn  ways  of 
life,  but  of  soaring  to  its  noblest  heights,  plunges 
into  the  midst  of  the  pollution ;  until  the  very  wings 
with  which  he  was  meant  to  soar  upward  are  clog- 
ged with  the  evil  thing  ;  and  instead  of  buoying 
him  upwards,  drag  him  downwards,  helpless,  blind- 
ed, so  that  he  can  not  only  no  longer  soar,  but 
scarcely  even  creep. 

"  What  will  the  end  be  ? 

*'  Often  this  wcisrhs  on  me  more  than  even  Roger's 
peril.  For  that  is  not  for  the  soul,  which  is  the 
man;  and  that  is  but  for  the  moment. 

"Sometimes  my  spirit  sinks,  sinks  as  if  its  wings, 
too.  were  all  clipped  and  broken.  And  I  have 
dreadful  visions  of  one  precious  life  ending  in  dis- 
honour before  man  here,  in  this  England,  in  this 
age  ;  and  the  other  in  dishonour  before  God  and 
good  men  for  ever.  And  Roland  standing  by  ami 
observing  both,  and  saying,  with  a  lifting  of  his 
eyebrows,  between  pity  and  scorn, — 

''Yes,  that  is  the  issue  of  passion,  for  syrens — or 
for  clouds.  That  is  the  result  of  giv'ng  the  reins  to 
enthusiasms;  religious  or  otherwise.  Poor  Walter; 
and  poor  Roger  !  With  a  few  grains  more  of  self- 
interest  and  common  sense,  they  might  both  have 
Btood   where  I   stand,  and   learned   the  vanity  of 


3 flz  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

everything  in  the  world  or  out  of  it,  except,  as  the 
preacher  says,  getting  well  through  it." 

August  21th. — The  minister  who  succeeded  Plaei- 
dia  Nicholls'  husband  during  the  Commonwealth  has 
been  superseded  by  Dr.  Rich,  a  scholar  who  seems 
to  have  lived  through  those  stormy  times  scarce 
hearing  their  tumult ;  so  near  and  so  much  more 
important  seem  to  him  the  tumults  and  controversies 
of  former  times.  He  will  scarce  assert  that  Monday 
is  the  day  after  Sunday,  without  proving  it  by  cita- 
tions from  a  catena  of  fathers  and  schoolmen  ;  which 
sets  one  piously  questioning,  whether  what  needs  so 
many  authorities  to  sustain  it  is  itself  substantial. 
Otherwise,  the  matter  of  his  statements  seem  so  free 
from  everything  every  one  does  not  believe,  that 
one  would  have  thought  no  proof  needed. 

"  A  most  friendly,  blameless,  and  harmless  gen- 
tleman, however,  he  is  ;  although  weighed  down  a 
little  as  to  thinking  by  the  authority  of  so  many 
ancients,  and  ae  to  living  by  the  necessities  of  cloven 
motherless  children,  who  have  to  be  fed  and  in- 
structed ;  since,  unfortunately,  the  children  of  such 
a  learned  man  came  into  the  world  as  destitute  of 
patristlcal  lore  as  if  they  had  been  born  in  the  first 
century,  or  their  father  were  a  Leveller. 

"  It  does  seem  hard  that  so  much  learning  cannot 
become  hereditary,  like  pointing,  or  retrieving.  It 
is  such  a  great  hindrance  in  the  way  of  the  moderns 
being  so  much  wiser  than  the  ancients  as  they  ought 
to  be. 

"  On  one  page  of  modern  ecclesiasW.il  history, 
however,  it  is  easy  to  make  Dr.  Rich,  or  uny  of  his 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA.  383 

cloven,  eloquent.  And  that  is  the  record  of  the 
good  deeds  of  Olive  and  Dr.  Antony,  who  seem 
to  have  maintained  and  lodged  the  whole  family 
throughout  the  times  of  the  Commonwealth.  They 
are  worthy,  he  says,  to  have  lived  in  the  days  of 
the  Apostolic  Fathers  ;  and  tears  come  into  his  eyes 
when  he  speaks  of  Olive's  little  devices  for  delicately 
helping  him.  '  She  thought  I  was  too  buried  in  my 
books  to  see,'  he  said.  '  But,  in  truth,  I  was  too 
much  overwhelmed  with  their  kindness  to  speak.' 

"  The  elder  girls,  too,  have  endless  stories  of 
Olive's  motherly  counsels  and  succour.  From  their 
account,  Maidie  and  Dolly  must  be  the  blithest  little 
un-Puritanical  darlings  in  the  world ;  and  the  boys 
hold  little  Cavaliers. 

"  August  30tk. — At  our  first  return  I  felt  almost 
more  an  exile  in  some  ways  than  while  we  were  in 
France.  People  had  fitted  into  each  other  so  closely 
as  to  leave  no  room  for  us  but  a  kind  of  show-place 
out  of  every  one's  way.  The  myriads  of  fine  inter- 
lacing fibres  which  bind  communities  together,  and 
root  each  in  its  place,  can  only  grow  slowly,  one  by 
one,  as  storms  straining  the  boughs,  or  summers 
ovcrlading  them  with  fruit,  made  them  needed. 

"  Even  eleven  years  of  mere  Time  almost  place 
you  in  another  generation.  Those  we  left  babes  are 
shy  lads  and  lasses  ;  the  children  are  young  mothers 
at  their  cottage  doors,  with  their  own  babes  in  their 
arms,  courtesying  and  wondering  we  do  not  know 
them  ;  the  youths  and  maids  are  sober  men  and 
matrons,  giving  counsel  on  the  perils  of  life  to  the 
youths  and  maidens  we  left  babes.    And  the  changt  3 


384  ON  BOTH   SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

of  these  eleven  years  have  not  been  those  of  men 
Time. 

"  Not  the  people  only  have  changed,  hut  the  coun- 
try : — the  whole  way  in  which  every  one  looks  at 
every  thing.  In  our  youth  King  and  Parliament 
were  the  powers  which  ruled  and  divided  the  world. 
Men  of  forty  now  scarcely  remember  a  king  really 
reigning.  Men  of  twenty  scarcely  remember  a 
Parliament,  save  the  poor  mockery  of  a  'Rump' 
which  Oliver  'purged,'  and  which  the  London 
butchers  roasted  hi  effigy— that  is,  in  beef— at  the 
Restoration. 

'  The  names  honoured  and  dreaded  in  our  youth, 
names  scarce  uttered  without  the  eye  flashing,  and 
the  cheek  flushing  with  admiration  or  indignation, 
have  passed  from  the  regions  of  popular  enthusiasm 
to  the  sober  and  silent  tribunals  of  history.     Many 
which  seemed  to  us  indelibly  engraven  on  the  hearts 
of  men  for  renown  or  for  abhorrence,  Sir  John  Ho- 
tham,  'the    first    traitor,'   Sir   Bevil    Granvill,    Sir 
Jacob  Astley,  are — except  among  those  who  per- 
sonally recollect  them— unknown ;    whilst  around 
the  loftier  heights  still  in  sight  strange  mists  of 
legend  already  begin  to  gather,  especially  among 
the  peasantry.     Prince  Rupert  is  the  '  black  man  * 
with  whoso  name  men  of  twenty  have  been  spell- 
bound into  submission  in  the  nursery.     Archbishop 
Laud  and  Strafford,  in  our  Puritan  village,  have 
well-nigh  taken  the  place  of  the  Spaniard  and  tin 
Pope  of  our  childhood,  and  rise  before  the  imao-ina- 
tion   of  the   people   as   fiery-eyed   giants,  rattling 
chains,  and  thirsting  for  the  blood  of  Englishmen. 


OX   BOTH  SIDES   OF    ThE  SEA 


385 


"  Hampden,  Pym,  Falkland,  Eliot,  are  mere  grand, 
silent  shades,  walking  the  Elysian  fields  of  the  past, 
far-off,  among  the  heroes,  Leonidas,  Brutus,  or  the 
Gracchi,  but  in  no  way  disturbing  the  pursuits  or 
influencing  the  thoughts  of  the  present. 

:'  Instead,  people  speak  frequently  and  familiarly 
of  Lambert,  Fleetwood,  and  others,  whose  names 
to  me  sound  as  strange  as  those  of  the  combatants 
of  the  Fronde.  And,  besides  these,  there  are  the 
names  which  have  shifted  from  side  to  side,  until 
they  seem  to  have  lost  all  meaning. 

"The  names  of  relio-ious  influence  anions:  the  Pu- 
ritans — John  Howe,  Dr.  Owen,  Vice-chancellor  of 
Oxford,  and  Richard  Baxter — are,  through  Mistress 
Dorothy,  less  unfamiliar  to  me.  Our  good  Bishop 
Hall  is  dead.  But  Dr.  Jeremy  Taylor,  whose  dis- 
course my  mother  loved  so  well,  still  lives,  and  fiba 
the  church  with  the  music  of  his  thoughts. 

"  The  one  English  name  which,  on  the  continent 
of  Europe,  overshadowed  (or  outshone)  all  the  rest 
— he  whom  the  young  King  Louis  (the  Fourteenth) 
called  'the  greatest  and  happiest  prince  in  Europe' 
— is  one  men  scarce  utter  willingly  now.  The  emo- 
tions which  his  name  calls  out  have  indeed  still  a 
perilous  fire  in  them. 

"  The  other  name,  of  which  we  used  to  hear  most 
in  foreign  parts,  until  it  seemed  at  times  as  if,  to 
the  outer  world,  the  Doino-  of  England  were  alone 
manifest  in  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  her  Thought  in 
John  Milton — is  also  proscribed.  The  poet's  trea- 
sonable '  Defences,'  which  scholars  abroad  admired 
(on  account  of  the  Latin  I  suppose),  have  been 
33 


3 86  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  1  HE  SEA 

burned  in  public.  Bat  he  himself  will,  it  is  thought, 
be  spared ;  although  for  the  present  he  is  in  con- 
cealment. A  poet  of  our  name  and  kindred,  to 
whom  they  say  he  showed  kindness,  is  doing  his 
utmost  to  save  him.  His  blindness,  and  the  great 
genius  and  renown  he  hath,  also  give  him  a  kind  of 
sacredr-ess.  Some  say  Heaven  hath  punished  him 
enough  already ;  others  that  Heaven  shields  him, 
and  makes  his  head  sacred  from  violent  touch  by  a 
crown  of  sorrow. 

"It  is  from  Isaac  Nicholls,  Mistress  Placidia's 
son,  I  hear  most  of  Mr.  Johu  Milton.  Isaac  is  a 
strange  sprout  from  such  a  stock.  He  careth  scarce 
at  all  for  the  world  as  a  place  to  get  on  in ;  and 
almost  infinitely  as  a  theatre  to  contemplate,  with 
its  scenes  painted  by  divine  hands.  He  seems  as 
familiar  with  the  past  as  Dr.  Rich ;  but  in  a  differ- 
ert  way.  To  Dr.  Rich  the  past  seems  a  book,  and 
the  present  another  book — a  commentary  on  it.  To 
Isaac  the  past  seems  not  a  book,  but  a  life,  and 
the  present  a  life  flowing  from  it. 

"  The  names  of  the  heroes  seem  as  the  names  of 
friends  to  him,  from  Leonidas  to  Falkland.  The 
voices  of  the  poets  seem  all  living,  from  Homer  to 
Milton.  And  while  Mistress  Nicholls  wears  out 
heart  and  brain  in  anxious  cares  to  make  him  an 
inheritance,  he  finds  a  king's  ti-easury  in  a  book, 
or  in  a  carpet  of  mosses  and  wild-flowers  such 
as  clothes  the  sweet  old  glade  by  the  Lady 
Well. 

"  Of  all  the  pe  >ple  I  remember,  no  one  seems  to 
me  to  have  grown  so  old  as  Mistress  Nicholls ;  and 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  387 

of  all  the  new  people,  none  seems  to  me  so  delight 
fully  new  as  Isaac  Nicholls. 

"The  prohibition  laid  by  my  father  (through 
Roland's  influence)  against  all  intercourse  with  the 
Draytons,  does  not  extend  to  Mistress  Nicholls' 
home.  She  is  the  nearest  link  I  have  with  the  old 
Netherby  home.  Isaac  comes  often  to  the  Hall,  and 
spends  long  days.  The  library  is  a  new  world  to 
him.  And  he  is  a  new  world  to  me  ;  or,  rather,  his 
mind  is  to  me  a  mirror  in  which  all  the  black,  blank 
"England  of  these  eleven  years  lives  and  moves,  and 
has  voice  and  color. 

"  It  was  a  warm  evening  early  in  July  when  I 
first  saw  Isaac.  Mistress  Nicholls  was  sitting 
spinning  in  the  porch  of  her  neat  house,  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  village. 

'* '  As  diligent  as  ever,  Mistress  Nicholls,'  I  said. 

" '  Yes,  Mistress  Lettice,'  said  she,  in  a  voice 
which  had  fallen  into  an  habitual  whine  (such  as  is 
thought  by  some  characteristic  of  the  Puritans  in 
general).  '  Ah,  yes,  these  are  no  times  for  a  lone 
woman  to  slacken  her  hands.  It  is  not  by  folding 
of  the  hands  that  body  and  soul  are  kept  together 
in  these  days.' 

"  As  she  spoke  she  led  me  to  a  chair  in  the  par- 
lor. In  the  window  was  sitting  a  lad  with  round 
shoulders  and  long  hair  falling  ever  his  forehead, 
as  he  pored  over  a  large  folio  on  the  window 
seat. 

"He  turned  round  suddenly  at  her  words,  and 
said,  in  an  abrupt,  shy  way,  yet  with  a  gentle, 
cheerful  voice : 


^88  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

" '  Oh,  mother,  don't  speak  of  body  and  soul,  we 
have  much  more  than  food  and  raiment.' 

'"I  do  not  deny,'  she  replied  to  me  in  a  voice 
half  querulous,  half  apologetic,  '  that  the  Lord  has 
been  merciful,  far  above  my  deserts,  no  doubt.  We 
have  never  yet  been  suffered  to  want,  I  freely  ac- 
knowledge, and  we  ought  to  be  very  thankful,  Mis- 
tress Lettiee ;  very  thankful,  no  doubt.' 

"  Hearing  my  name  the  boy  rose,  and  in  a  quiet, 
nervous  way,  came  forward,  held  out  his  hand,  and 
then  drew  back,  blushing,  and  made  an  awkward 
bow. 

" '  My  Isaac  has  heard  of  you,'  said  his  mother, 
'  from  his  cousins.     Isaac  thinks  no  one  fit  to  be 
compared  with  his  cousins,  Maidie  and  Dolly  Ad 
tony.' 

" '  Olive's  children  ! '  I  said.  And  I  took  his  hai^d 
and  held  it  in  both  mine.  It  seemed  to  bring  me 
nearer  them. 

"  'Maidie  and  Dolly  think  no  one  fit  to  be  com- 
pared with  Mistress  Lettiee,'  he  said. 

"It  touched  me  much.  And  with  so  much  in 
common,  friendship  between  Isaac  and  me  waxed 
apace. 

"  Yes,  it  was  I,  Lettiee  Davenant,  whom  Olive's 
fond  recollections  had  made  her  children's  queen  of 
beauty  and  love;  the  fairy  princess  of  their  fairy 
tales;  the  Una  of  their  '  milk  white  lamb.'  They 
knew  all  about  me ;  the  adventures  of  our  childhood 
were  their  nursery  stories ;  the  love  of  our  youth 
was  the  ideal  friendship  of  their  childhood. 

"And  now  I  come  back  to  them  no  longer  theii 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  385 

jotemporary  in  the  perpetual  youth  of  ftaryland, 
hut  their  mother's  ;  and  here  were  these  boys,  Isaac 
and  Austin  Rich,  thinking  no  one  in  the  world  so 
sweet  and  fair  as  Maidie  and  Dolly  Antony. 

"  Over  again,  the  old  story !  Yet  it  does  not 
make  me  feel  old,  but  young  again.  For  our  old 
friendships, — our  old  faithful  love, — are  not  dead, 
nor  like  to  die;  'incorruptible,  undefined,  and  that 
fadeth  not  away.'  That  is  a  heavenly  inheritance 
which  the  heart  enters  on  here,  or  never  there. 

"  Not  years  nor  sorrows  make  us  old,  but  selfish 
cares.  As  Rachel  Forster  said,  when  I  asked  her 
whether  Mistress  Nicholls  had  suffered  from  any 
uncommon  griefs  or  necessities,  that  she  looked  so 
old,  and  seemed  to  feel  so  poor. 

"  Nay,  Mistress  Lettice,  nay  !  To  my  recollection 
Mistress  Placidia  was  never  young;  and  all  the 
riches  of  the  Spanish  main  could  not  make  her  rich. 
She  has  such  a  terrible  empty  space  inside  to  fill. 
Not  even  the  Almighty,  the  possessor  of  heaven  and 
earth,  can  make  her  rich,  at  least  not  with  riches. 
And,  sure  enough,  He  has  tried,  to  my  belief,  near 
all  the  ways  He  has.  But  it  is  of  no  use.  But  I 
do  think  He  has  begun  to  make  her  poor.  And  that 
is  something.' 

"  '  What  do  you  mean,  Rachel  ?'  I  said. 

"  '  Time  was,  though,  poor  soul,  when  she  was 
never  able  to  think  that  she  hud  anything,  she 
thought  great  store  of  what  she  ioa.v,'  said  Rachel. 
'  But  now  that  is  broken  down.  I  do  believe  tho 
Lord  took  her  down  that  step  when  her  boy  was 
born.  And  that  step,  the  emptying  and  going 
33* 


\yc 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA 


down  ir.to  the  depths,  in  my  belief,  begins  to  raak« 
us  Christians.  Then  comes  the  step  up  again  into 
the  light.  And,  poor  soul,  it  seems  to  me,  ever 
since,  the  good  Lord  has  been  trying,  by  all  man- 
ner of  ways,  to  lead  her  up  that  stair.  But  she  has 
never  had  the  heart  to  come.  And  so,  down  there, 
out  of  the  light,  her  poor  wisht  soul  has  grown  old, 
and  white,  and  withered  like;  and  her  voice  has 
got  a  moan  in  it,  like  a  voice  tuned  in  a  sick  cham- 
ber, and  never  lifted  up  in  the  fresh  air,  in  a  good 
hearty  psalm.  '  Tisn't  years  or  griefs  that  make  us 
old,  nor  poverty  that  makes  us  poor,  to  my  seeing, 
but  looking  down  instead  of  up,  and  being  shut  up 
alone  with  self,  instead  of  with  God.' 

"  And  Job  looked  up,  and  said,  with  a  smile  and 
a  nod : — 

"'She  knows  well  enough,  wife;  she  knows  it 
isn't  anything  the  Lord  sends  that  makes  us  old 
or  poor;  but  what  the  devil  sends.  The  loss  of  all 
the  world  can't  make  us  poor,  and  the  rolling  by 
of  all  the  ages  can't  make  us  old,  any  more  than 
the  angels.  But  there's  no  need  to  tell.  She  knows. 
Mistress  Lettice  knows.' 

"  Job  did  not  look  up  from  the  tool  he  was  re- 
pairing as  he  spoke.  But  I  felt  that  his  heart  had 
seen  into  mine. 

"  And  it  is  a  wonderful  comfort  to  me  to  think 
that  that  good  old  Puritan  blacksmith  knows. 

"  For  he  has  camped  many  a  night  on  the  field 
with  Roger,  as  Rachel  has  often  told  me.  And,  nc 
doubt,  he  must  have  seen  into  Roger's  heart  as 
well  as  into  mine.     And,  no  doubt,  those  two,  who 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


391 


have  loved  each  ether  so  well,  have  a  warm  corner 
in  their  prayers  for  us. 

"September  1st. —  Isaac  Nicholls  has  wonderful 
6tones  of  the  settlers  in  the  American  Plantations. 
The  wilderness  across  the  Atlantic  seems  to  have 
been  to  him  and  Olive's  children  a  kind  of  Atlantis, 
and  Fairy  or  Giant  land ; — what  the  Faery  Queen 
or  the  stories  of  Hercules  or  the  Golden  Fleece 
were  to  us. 

"  He  has  tales  of  daring  and  endurance  concern- 
in  £  those  Piloriras  to  the  West  which  seem  to  me 
worthy  of  the  old  heroic  days.  Of  weeping  con- 
gregations parting  on  the  sea-shores  of  the  old 
world,  reluctantly  left.  Of  congregations,  free  and 
delivered,  praising  God  in  the  midst  of  danger  and 
distress  on  the  shores  of  the  new.  Of  a  hundred 
Eno-lish  men  and  women  forsaking;  land  and  friends 
for  religion,  and  going  in  a  little  ship  across  the 
ocean,  landing  among  the  wooded  creeks,  half  of 
them  perish ;ng  in  the  cold  of  the  first  winter  ;  but 
the  fifty  who  survived  never  murmuring  and  rever 
desparing.  Of  toils  to  till  the  new  fields  by  day, 
and  watcbings  at  niajht  against  the  Indians.  Of 
exploring  parties  going  through  trackless  forests 
till  they  found  a  habitable  nook  by  the  borders  of 
some  lake  or  stream.  Of  green  meadows  and 
^golden  corn-fields  slowly  won  from  the  wilderness; 
and  pleasant  gardens  springing  up  around  the  new 
homes,  with  strange  fruits  and  flowers,  and  birds 
with  song  as  strange  as  the  speech  of  the  Indian". 
Of  old  Puritan  psalms  sung  by  the  sea-shore,  till 
the    homely     villages'    arose,     with    their    homely 


392 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA, 


•ihurches,    as    in    Old     England    on    tho    tillage 
greens. 

'  It  sounds,  as  he  tells  it,  like  a  story  of  some 
old  Grecian  colony,  with  church  hells  through  it; — 
a  curious  mosaic  of  a  Greek  legend  (such  as  Roger 
used  to  tell  me),  and  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 
But  the  colonists  were  not  Athenians  nor  Spar- 
tans, hut  Englishmen.  And  it  all  happened  only 
forty  years  ago.  Or,  as  Isaac  helieves,  it  is  all 
happening  still,  For  although  the  great  tide  of 
Puritan  emigration  has  ceased  during  the  Common- 
wealth, there  are  always  a  few  joining  the  numbers. 

"'And,'  saith  Isaac,  '  Maidie  says  Uncle  Roger, 
thinks  the  tide  will  set  in  again  for  the  wilderness, 
if  things  go  on  as  they  are  going  now  at  Court ' 

"  But  here  Isaac  halts  abruptly,  as  treading  on 
forbidden  ground,  and  the  conversation  is  turned ; 
he  little  knowing  how  gladly  I  would  have  it  flow 
in  the  same  current,  and  I  scarce  deeming  it  keep- 
ing faith  with  my  father  to  make  an  effort  that  it 
should. 

"  The  two  living  men  who  seei^  to  fill  the  largest 
space  in  Isaac's  admiring  gaze,  are  Mr.  John  Milton, 
whom  all  the  world  knows,  and  a  John  Bunyan 
(not  even  a  Mr.),  a  poor  tinker  and  ar  Anabaptist, 
whom  no  one  knows,  I  should  think,  ^ut  of  his 
own  neighbourhood  or  sect,  but  whom  Isaac  de- 
clares to  have  a  way  of  making  past  tlrngs  pre- 
sent, and  far-off  things  near,  and  unseer  things 
visible,  as  only  the  poets  have. 

"  Mr,  John  Milton  one  can  understand  being  the 
hero  of  a  boy  like  Isaac ;  losing  bis  sight,  as  I **»< 


OJV'  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SI  A.  393 

believes,  in  the  '  Defence  of  the  People  of  England ; 
filling  all  Europe  with  his  song,  shaking  the  thrones 
of  persecuting  princes  by  his  eloquent  pleadinge 
for  the  oppressed  Christians  of  the  Alps,  seeming 
to  find  in  his  blindness  (as  a  saint  in  the  darkness 
of  death)  the  unveiling  of  higher  worlds  ;  a  gentle- 
man with  a  countenance  which  my  mother  thought 
uoble  and  beautiful  as  Dr.  Jeremy  Taylor,  or  any 
about  the  late  king's  Court ;  a  scholar  whose  taste 
and  learning  the  scholars  of  Italy  send  to  consult, 
and  whose  birth-house  they  come  to  see  in  London 
as  of  their  own  Petrarch  or  Dante  Alighieri ;  a  poet 
whom  men  who  can  judge  seem  to  lift  altogether 
out  of  the  choirs  of  living  singers,  into  a  place  by 
himself  among  the  poets  who  are  dead. 

"  But  this  Anabaptist  tinker  !  It  is  a  strange 
delusion.  I  cannot  wonder  at  Mrs.  Nicholls'  aver- 
sion from  such  guidance  for  her  son,  especially  as 
it  leads  into  the  most  perilous  religious  path  he 
can  tread. 

"  October. — I  have  eeen  the  Anabaptist  tinker  and 
heard  him  preach,  and  I  wonder  no  more  at  Isaac's 
enthusiasm. 

"  It  was  in  a  barn  a  mile  or  two  out  of  ISTetherby, 
Isaac  persuaded  me  to  go,  and  I  went ;  and  wrap 
ping  myself  in  a  plain  old  mantle,  crept  into  a  cor- 
ner and  listened. 

"And  there  I  heard  the  kind  of  sermon  I  have 
been  wanting  to  hear  so  long. 

"  Heaven  brought  so  near,  and  yet  shown  to  be 
so  infinite;  the  human  heart  shown  so  dark  and 
void,  and  yet  so  large  and  deep,  an  1  capable  of 


m 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


being  made  so  fair  and  full  of  good.  Gn.ce,  the 
'gracu  which  over-mastereth  the  heart  ;'  not  some- 
thing destroying  or  excluding  nature,  but  embrac- 
ing, renewing,  glorifying  it.  Christ  our  Loi*cl 
shown  so  glorious,  and  yet  so  human;  more  human 
than  any  man,  because  without  the  sin  which  stunts' 
and  separates.  Yes,  that  was  it.  This  tinker  made 
me  see  Him,  brought  me  down  to  His  feet ;  not  to 
the  Baptist,  or  Luther,  or  Calvin,  or  any  one,  but 
to  Christ,  who  is  all  in  one.  Brought  me  down  to 
His  feet,  rebuked,  humbled,  emptied;  and  then 
made  me  feel  His  feet  the  loftiest  station  any  creat- 
ure could  be  lifted  to. 

"  He  began,  as  I  think  all  highest  preaching  does, 
by  appealing  not  to  what  is  meanest,  but  what  is 
noblest  in  us ;  not  by  showing  how  easy  religion  is, 
but  how  great. 

"He  began  thus: — 'When  He  had  called  the 
people,  Jesus  said,  "  Whsoever  will  come  after 
Me  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  and 
follow  Me."  Let  him  count  the  charge  he  is  like  to 
be  at;  for  following  Me  is  not  like  following  some 
other  masters  The  wind  sets  always  on  my  face, 
and  the  foaming  rage  of  the  sea  of  this  world,  and 
the  proud  and  lofty  waves  thereof,  do  continually 
beat  upon  the  bark  Myself  and  My  followers  aro 
in  ;  he  therefore  that  will  not  run  hazards,  let  him  not 
net  foot  in  this  vessel.'' 

"  Then  he  spoke  of  the  greatness  of  the  soul  that 
could  be  lost  and  should  be  saved.  God  breathed 
it.  'And  the  breath  of  the  Lord  lost  nothing  in 
being   made    a    living    soul.     O    man !    dos*    tbou 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA  395 

know  what  thou  art  ?  Made  in  God's  image  !  1 
do  not  read  of  anything  in  heaven  or  earth  so 
made,  or  so  called,  but  the  Son  of  God.  The  King 
Himself,  the  great  God,  desires  communion  with  it. 
He  deems  no  suit  of  apparel  good  enough  for  it 
but  one  made  for  itself 

"  Then  he  spoke  of  the  wonderful  beauty  of  the 
body.  This  '  costly  cabinet  of  that  curious  thing 
the  soul.'  The  more  it  is  thought  of  and  its  works 
looked  into,  the  more  wonderfully  it  is  seen  to  be 
made.  Yet  is  the  body  but  the  house,  the  raiment, 
of  that  noble  creature  the  soul.  It  is  a  tabernacle; 
the  soul,  the  worshipper  within.  Yet  we  are  not 
to  forget  the  body  is  a  tabernacle,  no  common  dwell- 
ing, but  a  holy  place,  a  temple. 

"  Then  he  spoke  of  the  powers  of  this  '  noble 
creature : '  of  Memory,  its  '  register  ; '  of  Consci- 
ence, its  seat  of  judgment;  of  the  Affections,  the 
hands  and  arms  with  which  it  embraces  what  it 
loves.  God's  anger  is  never,  he  said,  against  these 
powers — 'the  natives  of  the  soul' — but  against 
their  misuse. 

"  But  the  soul  being  so  noble,  it  is  the  soul  that 
sins.  Not  the  body ;  that  is  passive.  And  it  is 
the  sinful  impenitent  soul  which  suffers,  Then 
the  clods  of  the  valley  are  sweet  to  the  wearied 
body.' 

"  A  whole  world  of  wisdom,  the  wisdom  I  had 
been  longing  to  hear,  seemed  to  me  to  lie  in  the 
words  of  this  tinker.  How  many  dark  hearts 
would  be  cheered,  and  downcast  hearts  lifted  up 
and  closed  narrowed  souls  opined  and  expanded  u 


396  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

embrace  the  light  around,  if  this  could  he  under- 
stood !  The  body  is  not  vile,  it  is  Gcd's  curious 
costly  cabinet ;  His  tabernacle  to  be  kept  holy.  The 
body  sins  not.  Sin  is  not  in  matter  but  in  spirit. 
Conversion  is  a  liberation  of  all  the  '•natives''  from 
the  intrusive  tyranny  of  sin  and  Satan,  a  making 
tl  e  whole  man  every  whit  whole.  God's  anger  is 
not  against  the  natural  affections  or  understanding. 
They  are  not  to  be  destroyed,  crushed,  or  fettered, 
They  are  to  be  liberated,  expanded,  quickened  with 
the  new  life. 

"  How  many  of  the  dark  pages  of  Church  history 
already  written,  and  now  being  written,  might 
never  have  been,  if  the  theology  of  this  tinker 
could  be  understood ! 

"  Luther,  they  say,  also  knew  these  things  (and 
Roger  used  to  declare  Oliver  Cromwell  did,  but  of 
this  I  know  nothing).  Strange  it  is  to  see  how 
from  height  to  height  these  souls  respond  to  each 
other,  like  bonfires  carrying  the  good  news  from 
range  to  range,  throughout  the  ages.  These  are 
the  wise;  wise  like  angels;  wise  like  little  children. 
Half  way  down  it  seems  to  me,  walk  the  smaller 
ingenious  men  of  each  generation,  laboriously 
building-  elaborate  erections  which  all  the  insreni- 

~  CD 

ous  men  on  their  own  hill-side  and  on  their  own 
level  admire,  but  which  those  on  the  other  side 
cannot  see.  And  below,  in  the  valleys,  the  reapers 
reap,  and  the  little  children  glean,  and  the  womer 
work  and  weep  and  wait,  and  wonder  at  the  skill 
of  the  builders  on  the  hill-side,  so  far  above  them 
to   imitate.     But  when   they  want  to  know   if  thf 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA.  397 

good  news  from  the  far  country  is  still  there  foi 
them,  as  for  those  of  old,  they  look  not  to  the  hill- 
sides lut  to  the  hill-tops,  where  the  bonfires  flash 
the  gjspels — plainer  even  in  the  night  than  in  the 
day — and  where  the  earliest  and  latest  sunbeams 
rest.  And  so  the  eyes  of  the  watchers  on  the 
mountain  tops,  of  the  children  and  the  lowly 
labourers  in  the  valleys,  and  of  the  angels  in  the 
heavens,  meet.  And  when  the  night  comes — 
which  comes  to  all  on  earth — the  ingenious  builders 
on  the  hill-sides,  no  doubt,  have  also  to  look  to  the 
mountain-tops,  where  the  watch-fires  burn,  and  the 
sunset  lingers  and  the  sunrise  breaks. 

"This  tinker  seems  to  have  a  soul  ordered  like  a 
great  kingdom,  all  its  powers  in  finest  use  and  in 
most  perfect  subordination.  But  Isaac  says  this 
kingdom  sprang  from  a  chaos  of  war,  and  conflict, 
and  anguish,  such  as  scarce  any  human  souls  know. 

"  In  this  also  like  Luther,  who  had  his  terrible 
civil  wars  to  pass  through  ere  the  Kingdom  came 
within.  (And  Roger  said  Oliver  Cromwell  had.) 
To  John  Banyan  (Isaac  told  me),  the  finding  of  an 
old  thumbed  copy  of  Luther  on  the  Galatians  was 
like  the  discovery  of  the  spring  in  the  wilderness  to 
llagar.  '  I  do  prefer  that  book,'  he  said,  '  before  all 
others,  except  the  Holy  Bible,  for  a  wounded  con- 


science.' 


"So  they  meet — these  simplest,  wisest,  widest, 
humblest,  highest  souls,  and  understand  each  other's 
language,  and  take  up  each  other's  song  in  anti- 
phons  from  age  to  age. 

"Yet,  I  fear,  this  can  scarce  be  so  with  JobtJ 
31 


3g8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  TK  I  SEA. 

Bunyan.  His  voice  can  scarce  reach  beyond  his 
own  time,  deep  as  it  is.  For  how  could  an  unlearned 
tinker  write  a  book  which  ages  to  come  would 
read  ? 

"  And,  withal,  he  is  a  true  Englishman.  That 
also  pleased  me  well  in  him.  I  think  the  greatest 
men  who  are  most  human,  most  for  all  men,  are  also 
most  characteristically  national ;  it  is  the  smaller 
great  men  who  are  cosmopolitan.  Even  as  St.  Paul 
was  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews,  Martin  Luther  wras 
German  to  the  core,  they  say  (and  Roger  said  Oliver 
Cromwell  was  English  to  the  core).  And  so  is 
John  Bunyan. 

"  A  square,  solid  brow ;  a  ruddy,  healthy,  sensi- 
ble countenance ;  a  body  muscular,  strong-boned, 
tall,  compact ;  eyes  keen,  calm,  quick,  sparkling, 
obseiwant,  kindly,  with  twinklings  of  humour  in 
them,  and  tears,  and  anger,  but  not  restless  or 
dreamy  ;  a  mouth  firm,  capable  of  rebuke  or  of  quiet 
smiles.  In  company,  Isaac  says,  not  'given  to  lo- 
quacity or  much  discourse,  unless  some  urgent  oc- 
casion required  it ;'  and  then  '  accomplished  with  a 
quick  discerning  of  persons,  being  of  a  good  judg- 
ment and  an  excellent  wit.'  The  dumbness  (natural 
to  all  Englishmen  worth  anything)  not  absent  in 
him ;  speech  1  eing  with  him  not  for  ornament  but 
for  use. 

"November,  16  0.—  Isaac  is  in  great  trouble.  John 
Bunyan  has  been  cast  into  prison.  Mistress  Nicholla 
also  is  in  great  trouble,  fearing  Isaac  may  be  in- 
volved in  John  Bunyan's  disgrace,  seeing  he  love* 
so  much  to  hear  him. 


ON  LOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  399 

"  '  It  is  a  very  peculiar  trial,'  saith  she,  '  that  her 
boy  should  embrace  the  most  perilous  form  of  all 
the  perilous  religions  of  the  day,' 

"  Not  the  most,  mother,'  said  Isaac.  '  The  Qua 
kers  are  worse.' 

';  Indeed  everyone  seems  to  agree  that  of  all  the 
sects  which  have  sprung  up  during  the  Common- 
wealth, the  Quakers  are  the  worst.  I  should  like 
to  sec  one. 

"February,  1661. — I  am  grieved  to  the  heart  ai 
these  ungenerous  revenges.  It  was  an  ill  way  to 
celebrate  the  martyrdom  of  His  Sacred  Majesty,  to 
drag  the  bodies  of  brave  men  from  the  graves  in  the 
Abbey,  and  hang  them  on  gibbets. 

"  Senseless,  mean,  and  barbarous  revenges  !  They 
should  have  heard  John  Bunyan  the  tinker  preach. 
It  was  not  the  body  that  sinned.  They  should 
have  let  it  rest. 

"  My  father  thinks  Oliver  Cromwell  deserved  any- 
thing ;  but  he  is  not  pleased  at  their  having  dis- 
turbed the  bones  of  his  mother  and  daughter,  and 
of  Robert  Blake,  and  cast  them  into  a  pit  in  St. 
Margaret's  churchyard. 

"  'A  peaceable  old  gentlewoman,  who  never  did 
any  harm  that  I  heard,'  said  he, '  except  bringing  the 
usurper  into  the  world  ;  and  a  young  gentle  lady 
too  good  for  such  a  stock.  Their  dust  would  not 
have  hurt  that  of  the  kings'.  Doubtless  it  was  in 
solence  to  lay  them  there;  but  it  was  scarce  an  Eng 
lish  gentleman's  work  to  molest  them.' 

"Bat  about  the  violation  of  Blake's  tomb  hia 
tnger    waxed     hot.       '  A   god    old    Somerset.sHr< 


fOO 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


family,' he  said.  '  They  might  have  let  him  rest;  if 
only  for  the  fright  he  gave  the  Pope,  the  Turk,  and 
the  Spaniard.' 

"  I  was  afraid  to  go  near  Job  Forster's  for  some 
days  after  I  heard  of  these  desecrations.  When  at 
last  I  went,  Rachel  could  not  altogether  restrain 
her  indignation.  Job  only  said,  "  Never  heed,  never 
heed.  He  thev  sought  to  dishonour  doesn't  heed. 
What  is  all  the  world  but  a  churchyard  ?  In  "  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye"  will  anyone  have  time  to  see 
where  the  bodies  rise  from  ?  Or  dost  think  the  gold 
and  jewels  on  kings'  tombs  will  have  much  of  a 
shine  when  the  Gates  of  Pearl  are  open,  and  the 
poor  body  they  have  thrown  like  a  dog's  beneath 
the  gibbet  shall  enter  them  shining  like  a  star  ?' 

"  But  then  something  broke  down  his  fortitude, 
and  he  added,  in  a  husky  voice, — 

'''Yet  England  might  have  found  him  another 
grave.     He  did  his  best  for  her ;  he  did  his  best.' 

"January,  1662. — A  long  break  in  these  pages. 
There  has  not  been  much  very  cheerful  to  write. 
And  I  would  never  write  noans.  These  it  is  better 
to  make  into  prayers. 

"  Our  house  is  not  altogether  at  unity  with  itself. 

"  Roland  has  brought  home  his  wife. 

"  From  the  first,  my  father  did  not  affect  her. 

"  She  took  her  new  honours  more  loftily  and  easily 
than  he  liked. 

" '  [V  pretty  Frenchified  poppet,'  he  called  her. 

"  I  have  done  my  best  to  smooth  matters, although 
it  is  a  little  vexatious  to  the  temper,  sometimes,  to 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  +0l 

be  counselled  with  matronly  airs,  and  co  isoled  for 
my  single  state  by  this  young  creature. 

"  It  has  been  often  difficult  to  keep  the  peace. 

"  Naturally,  the  old  associations  of  the  old  place 
are  nothing  to  her,  and  she  offends  my  father  con- 
tinually, by  laughing  at  the  old  servants,  the  old 
furniture,  and  what  she  calls  our  old-fashioned  ways 
in  general. 

"  But  to-day  she  kindled  him  into  a  flame  which, 
for  the  time,  will  probably  keep  her  at  a  distance. 

"  She  ventured  to  propose  that  she  should  change 
my  mother's  oratory  into  a  cabinet  for  herself,  '  to 
be  draped ,'  said  she,  '  with  silk,  and  adorned  with 
statues,  and  be  like  the  apartments  of  the  "  Lady  " 
at  Whitehall.' 

"  Which  brought  out  some  very  plain  English 
from  ray  father  concerning  the  '  Lady,'  and  all  who 
favoi«d  her. 

"  '  The  king,'  he  vowed,  'might  degrade  his  pal- 
aces, if  he  pleased,  and  if  he  dared.  But  he  would 
see  the  Hall  and  everything  in  it  burned  to  the 
ground,  rather  than  have  the  place  where  my  mother 
had  lived  the  life  and  jn'ayed  the  prayers  of  an  an- 
gel, polluted  by  being  likened  to  the  dwelling  of  a 
creature  it  was  a  dishonour  for  a  man  to  tolerate  or 
for  a  woman  to  name.' 

"  So,  for  the  time,  the  controversy  ended.  And,  in  a 
few  days,  Roland  and  his  wife  went  back  to  the  Court. 

"  But  jiv  lather  is  more  and   more  uneasy  and  ir- 
ritable.    'In  his  youth,  he  said,  'in  the  days  of  the 
good  of  sacred  memory,  all   were  noble,  rebels,  roy- 
alists, all.     Eliot,  Pym,  Hampden,  Ess<  .,  were  gen 
34* 


402 


ON  BOTH    SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 


tlemen  and  true  Englishmen,  as  well  as  Falkland, 
Bevil  Granvill,  or  Sir  Jacob  Astley.  And  all,  how- 
ever deluded,  feared  God,  and  honoured  all  true 
men  and  women.  But  now,'  says  he,  '  all  are  base 
togethei  -Court,  Royalists,  Roundheads — all.  Why 
could  not  Roger  Drayton  have  kept  to  such  politics 
as  Hampden's  or  his  own  father's,  and  not  disgraced 
himself  by  joining  these  furious  traitors  and  sec- 
taries ?' 

"  By  which  I  know  that  my  father  has  relentings 
towards  the  Draytons,  though  he  will  by  no  means 
confess  it. 

"  June,  1 662. — I  have  seen  a  Quaker.  And  a  very 
soft  and  mild  kind  of  creature  it  seems  to  be. 

"  Olive's  children  are  at  Netherby.  To-day  I  met 
her  little  girls  at  Mistress  Nicholls's.  Maidie  is  a 
darling  little  elfin  queen.  And  Dolly  is  a  swee*. 
little  Puritan  angel.  And  with  them  was  Annie 
Nye,  their  nurse,  a  Quaker  maiden,  with  a  heroical 
serene  face,  and  a  voice  even  and  soft,  like  a  river 
flowing  through  meadows.  She  attracted  me  much  ; 
a  harmless  dove  of  a  maiden  she  seemed. 

"  But  when  I  said  so  to  Job  Forster,  on  my  way 
home,  he  shook  his  head  and  muttered, — 

" '  Soft  enough,  and  deep  enough  !  You  would 
find  what  kind  of  gentleness  she  has  if  you  saw  her 
take  the  bit  between  her  teeth  and  make  straight 
for  the  pillory,  and  you  had  to  hold  her  in  and 
keep  her  safe,  if  you  could.  Why,  I'm  always  ex- 
pecting, morn  and  night,  that  poor  maid'll  get  » 
'  concern '  to  go  and  testify  against  the  king's  mis- 
tresses, or  the  Popish  bishops'  surplices.     To  saj 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  40  > 

nothing  of  the  chance  of  her  setting  off  to  preach 
in  New  England,  or  to  the  Turks,  or  to  the  Pope  cf 
Rome,  as  some  of  them  do  when  they  are  well  per- 
suaded it  is  more  dangerous  than  anything  else. 
And  say  what  George  Fox  may  of  the  Protector, 
ehe'd  find  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Court  scarce  so 
tender  as  he  was.  If  you  want  to  make  your  life  s. 
burden  to  you,  Mistress  Lettice,'  he  concluded  dole- 
fully, shaking  his  head,  '  you've  nought  to  do  but 
to  get  your  heart  tender  to  a  Quaker  (as  no  man  or 
woman  with  a  heart  in  them  can  help  getting  it  to 
that  wilful  maid),  and  try  to  keep  her  out  of  harm's 
way.  You'll  find  you've  no  rest  left,  day  nor  night. 
I've  had  hard  things  to  do  in  my  time,  but  never 
one  that  beat  me  over  and  over  like  trying  to  keep 
a  Quaker  safe.' 

"July,  1662. — My  father,  a  few  days  since,  met 
Maidie  and  Dolly  in  the  village,  and  asked  whose 
children  they  were. 

"  In  the  evening  he  said  to  me, — 

"  '  Those  children  of  Olive  Drayton's,  at  least,  are 
guilty  of  no  crimes,  political  or  other.  Have  them 
to  the  house,  Lettice,  if  thou  wilt.' 

"And,  since,  the  old  house  and  the  gardens  have 
grown  musical  with  the  frolics  of  these  young  crea- 
tures, Isaac  and  Maidie,  Austin  Rich  and  Dolly.  It 
makes  me  young  again  to  see  their  story  of  life  be- 

ming. 

;< And  it  is  pleasant  to  fed  there  is  so  much  ol 
youth  left  in  my  heart  to  respond  to  the  youth  in 
theirs,  so  that  they  see  and  feel  my  being  with  'hew 
a  sunshine,  not  a  shadow. 


g" e 


4C4  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

"  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  could  be  content  to  t  ake 
this  on-looker's  place  in  life,  and  be  a  kind  of  grand- 
mother to  every  one's  children.  If  I  conld  only  be 
sure  that  Roger  and  the  old  friends  were  also  con- 
tent and  secure. 

"  But  the  times  press  hard  on  them,  and  are  like, 
I  hey  say,  to  pi-ess  harder  yet. 

"  August  30. — The  harder  times  for  the  Puritans 
have  come,  or  have  begun.  A  week  since,  on  St. 
Bartholomew's  Day,  two  thousand  of  their  minis- 
ters resigned  their  benefices,  rather  than  do  what 
was  commanded  by  the  Act  of  Uniformity. 

"  My  father  is  angry  with  the  '  parsons '  all 
round ;  with  the  bishops  for  driving  the  Puritans 
out,  with  the  Puritans  for  going. 

"  Mistress  Dorothy  writes  from  Kidderminster : — 

" '  Mr.  Baxter  and  sixteen  hundred  of  His  Ma- 
jesty's most  loyal  subjects,  and  the  Church's  most 
faithful  ministers,  banished  from  their  pulpits.  We 
had  looked  for  another  return  when,  like  Judah  of 
old,  we  hastened  to  be  the  first  to  bring  back  our 
king.  But  return,  or  no  return,  let  not  any  think 
Ave  repent  our  loyalty.  We  will  pray  for  His  Ma- 
jesty by  twos  or  threes,  if,  by  his  command,  we  are 
forbidden  to  assemble  in  larger  numbers.  Pray  that 
his  throne  may  be  established,  and  his  counsellors 
converted.' 

"  Job  Forster  smiles  grimly  under  the  gray  sol- 
dierly hair  on  his  upper  lip,  and  says,  sententiously, 
between  the  strokes  on  his  anvil, — 

" '  They  are  finding  it  out.  One  after  another. 
The  four  thousand  Quakers  in  the  jails.     The  Sroi 


ON  BOTH  BIDiUS   OF   THE  SEA.  405 

tish  Covenanted  men,  with  the  choice  between  the 
bishops  and  the  gallows.  Jenny  Geddes  will  scarce 
rise  from  the  dead  to  help  them  now.  They  are 
learning  how  the  king  remembers  their  sermons,  to 
which  they  made  him  hearken  so  many  hours.  And 
Low  he  keeps  their  Covenant,  to  which  they  road 
him  swear  so  many  oaths.  The  French,  and  the 
Dutch,  and  the  Spaniards  found  it  out  long  ago. 
And  now  the  two  thousand  parsons  are  finding  it 
out.  And  by-and-by,  nigh  the  whole  country  will 
find  it  out.  But  Rachel  and  I  will  scarce  be  here 
to  see.' 

"  '  Find  out  what  ? '  I  said. 

"'That  the  Lord  Protector's  death  was  no  such 
great  blessing  to  any  but  himself,'  said  Job.  And 
he  became  at  once  too  absorbed  in  his  work  to  pur- 
sue the  conversation. 

"  October  297//. — To-day,  the  Post  brought  tidings 
which,  when  my  lather  read,  he  dashed  the  letter 
from  him,  and  started  to  his  feet  writh  an  anathema, 
brief  but  dec)). 

"Then  he  paced  up  and  down  the  room  once  or 
twice  in  silence,  and  then  he  said  suddenly  to  me, — ■ 

"  'Lettice,  where  is  Roger  Drayton  ?  ' 

"The  abrupt  question  startled  me  for  an  insta  at, 
BO  that  I  could  not  reply.  I  did  not  know  w.  at 
new  calamity  had  come,  or  was  coming.  And  I 
suppose  the  color  hit  my  face.  For  at  once  my 
father  added  'very  gently, — 

"'I  should  not  have  asked  thee.  I  know  well 
thou  hast  kept  my  prohibition  but  too  loyally.  J 
will  send  a  messenger  to  Xetherby  with  the  letter 


+o6  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

"  He  wrote  a  few  rapid  lines,  and  despatched  a 
Eery  ant.  wTith  the  letter  without  delay. 

"  Then  deliberately  and  quietly  he  took  his  sword 
from  his  side  and  hung  it  up  beside  my  grandfa- 
ther's in  the  hall. 

" '  For  the  last  time  ! '  he  said.  '  The  honor  of 
England  is  gone  for  ever.  The  king  has  sold  Dim- 
kirk  to  the  French."1 

"And  With  a  restless  impatience  he  went  on, — 

"  '  Come,  come,  child  !  We  will  make  no  babyish 
moans.  Get  on  thy  mantle  and  come  round  the 
old  place.  A  man  may  still  serve  the  country  by 
making  two  blades  of  grass  where  one  grew  before. 
But  by  bearing  arms  under  traitors  who  sell  the 
honor  of  England  to  pay  for  the  paint  and  gewgaws 
of  wicked  women,  never  again.  Henceforth  call 
thyself  a  husbandman's  daughter;  but  never  again 
a  soldier's.  In  name  and  in  arms  England  is  dis- 
graced, child,  dishonored,  made  a  bye-word  and  a 
laughing-stock  to  the  whole  world.  But  we  may 
still  make  the  corn  grow  thicker  and  the  sheep  fatter. 
So  who  shall  say  there  is  not  something  worth  living 
for  yet  ? 

"  '  Something  worth  doing  yet,'  he  added,  '  for 
the  country  of  Eliot  and  Falkland,  and  Robert 
Blake,  who  made  the  Pope  and  the  Tuik  quake  in 
their  castles,  and  now  lies  tossed  like  a  dog  into  a 
pit  in  St.  Margaret's  churchyard  ! ' 

"  But  he  did  not  tell  me  what  was  in  the  letter 
he  sent  to  Netherby. 

"  October  31  st. — The  autumn  wind  was  softly  drift- 
ing the  brown  leaves  into  heaps  round  the  roo',s>  oi 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  4.07 

the  trees,  by  the  Lady  Well,  and  softly  adding  to 
them  by  loosening  one  by  one  from  the  brancheB. 
I  was  thinking  he  was  God's  gardener,  tenderly, 
though  with  rough  hands,  folding  warm  coverlids 
over  the  roots  of  the  floweis.  I  was  thinking  how 
wilder  winds  would  come,  and  with  icy  breath  heap 
the  snows  above  the  dead  leaves ;  and  yet  still  only 
be  God's  gardeners  to  keep  His  flowers  housed 
against  the  spring,  and  not  to  shelter  only,  but  to 
feed  and  enrich  them  whilst  sheltering.  For  sleep 
is  not  only  a  rest,  but  a  cordial  of  new  life.  I  was 
listening  to  the  dropping  of  the  water  into  the  Holy 
Well  the  mouks  had  made  so  long  ago,  and  think- 
ing how  Olive  and  I  had  listened  to  it  long  ago, 
and  thought  it  like  church  music  from  a  kind  of 
sacred  Fairy  land.  The  old  well,  and  the  fresh 
spring;  always  fresh,  always  living,  always  young; 
when  there  came  a  rustling  among  the  leaves  which 
was  not  the  wind,  nearer,  nearer,  and  before  I  could 
look,  his  hand  on  my  hand,  and  his  voice,  low  an 
the  dropping  of  the  water,  on  my  heart,  and  deep 
as  the  spring  from  which  it  flowed. 

"  '  Lettice,  your  father  told  me  I  might  come  back 
Do  you  say  so  r ' 

"  I  could  scarcely  speak,  still  less  could  I  meet 
his  eyes,  which  I  felt  through  the  heavy  lids  I  could 
not  raise. 

u '  My  heart  has  never  changed,  Roger,'  I  said  at 
last,  '  nor  misdoubted  you  one  instant.' 

"  '  Has  your  determination  changed,  Lettice  ? ' 
he  said,  gently  withdrawing  his  hand. 

" '  Has  yours  ? '  I  said.     '  If  you  can  but  say  yo» 


4.0S  ON  BOTH  SID  EH   OF  THE  SEA. 

grieve  for  one  irrevocable  deed,  and  would  recall  it 
if  you  could  ?  ' 

"'I  repent  of  much,  and  would  undo  much,'  he 
replied.  '  But  I  can  never  say  I  repent  of  following 
him  who  saved  England;  and  to  whom  Eng- 
land cannot  even  return  the  poor  gratitude  of  a 
grave.' 

"  We  went  silently  home  side  by  side,  the  dead 
leaves  crumbling  under  his  feet  in  the  still  wood- 
land paths,  till  we  came  to  my  mother's  garden, 
one  side  of  which  bordered  on  the  wood. 

"  There  he  unlatched  the  little  garden  gate,  and 
held  it  for  me  to  pass.  The  click  sounded  startling 
in  the  silence.  I  passed  through,  but  did  not  look 
up,  until  my  hands  were  suddenly  seized  in  my 
father's,  and  his  face  shone  down  on  me  beaming 
with  smiles  I  had  not  seen  there  for  many  a  day. 

"  '  How  now,  child,'  said  he,  '  whither  away,  pale 
and  downcast  as  a  white  violet  ? 

"  '  Dost  fear  I  distrust  thee  Lettice  ? '  he  added 
softly  ;  '  I  never  did,  I  never  could.' 

"  Then  I  looked  up  and  met  his  eyes  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  the  softness  in  them  overcame  me,  and  I 
could  not  speak. 

"  '  What  does  all  this  mean,  Roger  Drayton  ? ' 
he  resumed,  impatiently.  '  Does  not  she  know  1 
sent  for  thee  ?     Surely  she  has  not  changed?' 

"  '  Mistress  Lettice  says  she  has  not  changed,1 
Baid  Roger  despondingl}r,  '  and  never  can.' 

"  '  Then  what  is  all  this  coil  about  ?  She  told 
me  months  since,  in  the  teeth  of  prohibitions  and 
entreaties  to  bestow  her  hand  elsewhere,  that  you 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA.  409 

had  exchanged  troth,  and  would  be  true  to  each 
oth(  r  till  death.' 

"  '  And  after,'  said  T.  '  Death  cannot  separate 
us  for  ever.  Only  that  terrible  death,  and  thai 
only  in  life.' 

"  '  It  was  because  I  guarded  the  scaffold  at  the 
king's  beheading,'  said  Roger. 

"  '  Tush,  tush,  child,'  my  father  replied,  hastily. 
4  We  have  been  through  a  wilderness,  and  which 
of  us  has  not  lost  his  way  ?  We  have  been  through 
che  fire  and  smoke  of  a  hundred  battles,  who  ex- 
pects us  to  come  out  with  face  and  hands  washed 
like  a  Pharisee's  ?' 

"  Then  suddenly  turning  to  Roger  and  taking 
his  hand,  he  said  solemnly, — 

" '  If  thou  hadst  known,  Roger  Drayton,  for 
what  a  king  that  scaffold  was  clearing  the  way, 
I  trow  thou  hadst  rather  laid  thy  head  on  the 
block  thyself.' 

"  This  Roger  did  not  deny.  Was  not  his  silence 
a  confession ?  And  so,  when  my  father  laid  our 
hands  together  in  his,  could  I  refuse  ?  The  sacred 
irresistible  touch  of  another  hand  which  had  once 
before  so  joined  them,  seemed  on  us  all,  and  a  ten- 
der voice  from  heaven  seemed  to  float  above  like 
church  music.  And  still  as  I  listened  to-night,  in 
the  oratory  alone,  it  seemed  to  say, — 

"  '  My  children,  the  way  is  rough,  tread  it  to- 
gether. The  burdens  are  heavy;  share  them  all. 
Sorrows,  fears,  fruitless  regrets,  fruitful  repentances, 
share  them  all.  Bear  each  other's  burdens,  and  in 
so  bearing,  make  them  sometimes  light  and  always 
35 


tio  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  IKE  SEA. 

helpful.  To  you  it  is  given  to  love ;  not  with  the 
poor  timid  transitory  love  which  dares  not  see,  but 
with  the  love  which  dares  to  see  because  it  helps 
to  purify.  My  children,  the  way  will  not  be  smooth. 
Tread  it  together.  The  burdens  will  be  heavy. 
Share  them  all.'  " 

olive's  recollections. 

They  were  married  as  quietly  as  might  be  or 
a  quiet  autumn  day  in  the  old  parish-church  of 
Netherby. 

We  waited  for  them  in  the  porch  of  the  old 
church — the  west  porch,  which  our  forefathers  had 
built — looking  across  the  green  graves  of  the  vil- 
lage churchyard,  across  the  quiet  village  street  to 
the  arched  gate  which  opened  opposite  from  one  of 
the  avenues  of  the  hall;  my  father,  Aunt  Dorothy 
(once  more  at  ISTetherby),  Aunt  Gretel,  my  hus- 
band, the  children  and  I. 

No  stately  procession  issued  thence,  only  Let 
tice.  leaning  on  her  father's  arm,  wrapped  closely 
in  a  mantle,  with  a  few  faithful  old  servants  fol 
lowing. 

We  saw  them  in  the  distance  wending  towards 
us  among  the  grey  stems  of  the  beech-trees. 
Their  footsteps  fell  softly  on  the  fallen  leaves  as 
they  crossed  the  church  path.  We  met  them  at 
the  churchyard  gate. 

So  we  entered  the  church,  which  we  had  not 
done  before. 

And  there  a  sight  met  us  which  went  deep  to 
Wir  hearts. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  4  ,  , 

Thtre  had  been  no  triumphal  wedding  arches,  no 
banners,  no  flowers  strewn  on  the  bride's  path. 

Netherbv  was  a  Puritan  village,  and  we  Puritans 
were  at  no  time  great  in  pomps  and  ceremonials, 
Moreover,  there  was  a  weight  of  joy  in  the  crown- 
ing of  this  hope  so  long  deferred,  and  a  depth  of 
content,  which  moved  rather  to  tears  than  to 
shouts  of  welcome.  Nor  were  the  times  very  joy- 
ous to  us.  With  two  thousand  deprived  ministers 
to  be  kept  from  starving,  and  thousands  of  those 
who  believed  as  we  did,  not  to  be  kept  from  pris- 
ons, our  festivities  naturally  took  a  sober  colouring. 

We  had  not  therefore  been  prepared  to  find  the 
church  full  from  door  to  altar;  full  of  people  from 
the  village  and  from  all  the  country  round— old 
men  and  women,  and  the  youngest  children  that 
could  be  trusted  to  be  quiet.  (For,  as  one  mother 
said  afterwards,  "I  would  like  them  to  be  able  to 
say  to  their  children,  '  I  was  there  when  Mr.  Roger 
and  Mistress  Lettice  were  married.'  ")  They  rose 
as  we  passed  up  the  aisle,  and  a  soft  murmur  of 
benediction  seemed  to  fill  the  silent  church. 

For  Roger  and  Lettice  were  dearly  loved  in 
the  dear  old  place,  with  an  affection  which  had 
grown  with  their  growth  from  infancy,  and  which 
was  strong  through  the  intertwining  roots  of  cen- 
turies. (Il  will  be  long  before  the  new  roots  in  the 
New  World  strike  so  deep.) 

Anc  through  all  the  generations  of  Davenanta 
and  Draytons  this  was  the  first  time  the  lines  had 
met  in  marriage. 

It  was  a  solemn  as  well  as  a  joyful  thing  to  se« 


412 


ON  BOTH   SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 


those  two  stand  with  joined  hands  at  the  allai 
with  the  tombs  of  our  fathers  beside  them  in  the 
oldest  transept,  and  the  stately  monuments  of  the 
Davenants  opposite,  whilst  the  whole  village  of 
Cur  tenants  and  servants  (children  of  generations 
of  our  tenants  and  servants)  were  gathered  behind. 

As  they  knelt  down  side  by  side  on  the  altaT 
steps,  a  ray  from  the  autumn  sun  fell  softly  on  her 
bowed  head,  slightly  turned,  on  the  rich  brown 
hair  flowing  beneath  her  veil,  on  the  broad  fair 
brow,  the  drooping  eyelids,  with  their  long  dark 
lashes,  and  the  pale  cheek.  In  its  repose  her  face 
shone  on  me  as  if  it  had  been  her  mother's  looking 
down  on  her  from  heaven;  so  close  seemed  the 
likeness,  so  angelic  the  calm.  It  brought  my  child- 
hood, and  all  heaven  before  me,  and  blinded  my 
eyes  with  tears. 

Good  old  Dr.  Rich  was  so  completely  shaken  out 
of  his  natural  dwelling-place  in  the  past  by  his 
sympathy  with  them  that  he  seemed  like  another 
man.  His  voice  was  deep  and  tender,  and  the  bene- 
dictions fell  from  his  lips  with  a  power  which  re- 
sounded from  stone  effigies  of  knight  and  dame, 
and  thrilled  back  from  every  living  heart,  in  a  deep 
echo,  "  Yea,  and  they  shall  be  blessed." 

The  most  rigid  Puritan  in  the  place  conformed 
for  the  occasion.  Responses  went  up,  not,  as 
Mr.  Baxter  complains,  "in  a  confused  and  unmean- 
ing manrer,"  but  hearty  and  clear  as  an  anthem  j 
and  the  Amcns  rang  through  the  church  like  * 
dalute  of  artillery. 

As  tho  service  closed  and  we  followed  Lettic* 


ON  BOTH  SIDES,  OF   THE  SEA  4,3 

and  Roger  clown  the  aisle,  I  noticed  a  cavalier 
wrapped  in  a  large  mantle,  leaning  against  one  of 
the  pillars  near  the  door.  Lettice  saw  him  and 
pointed  him  out  to  Roger,  and  both  then  went  to- 
wards him.  It  was  Walter  Davenant.  He  came 
forward  and  grasped  their  hands. 

His  voice  was  low,  and  had  a  tremor  iu  it.     But 
I  heard  him  say, — 

.  "  If  my  being  publicly  here  could  have  been  any 
sign  of  honour  to  you,  Roger  Drayton,  i.  would 
nave  come  with  a  cavalcade.  But  my  coming  is 
an  honour  to  none.  I  pray  you  think  it  not  a 
disgrace." 

Sir  Walter  coloured  as  he  saw  him  (he  had  for 
bidden  Walter  to  enter  his  house),  but  Lettice 
placed  their  hands  together,  and  there  was  no  re- 
sisting the  entreaty  in  her  sweet  pleading  face. 
So  the  old  cavalier  went  back  to  the  hall  leaning 
on  his  son's  arm. 

It  seemed  as  happy  an  augury  as  could  be  given 
of  the  blessing  to  flow  from  the  marriage. 

He  was  the  only  one  of  Lettice's  kindred  except 
her  father  who  vouchsafed  his  presence.  And  I 
believe  it  was  to  counterbalance  this  cold  recep- 
tion, and  testify  how  he  honoured,  as  much  as  to 
show  hew  he  loved,  his  child,  that  Sir  Walter  in- 
pisted  on  all  the  village  partaking  of  such  a  feast 
as  Netherby  had  never  seen,  and  on  the  ringers  of 
all  the  churches  round  ringing  such  peals  as  the 
country  side  had  never  heard. 

So  it  came  about  that  at  last,  after  flowing  sc 
parallel,  so  close,  and  so  divided  for  so  ciany  ^en 
35* 


^.,4  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

turies,  the  two  streams  of  life  at  Netherby  blended 
in  one. 

Job  Forstcr  said, — 

"  I  always  knew  it  must  be — I  always  knew,  Dc 
you  think,  Mistress  Olive,  I've  watched  nightly  with 
Master  Roger  by  the  camp-fires  on  Scotch  and  Irish 
moors,  on  the  hills  and  by  the  sea,  and  gone  with 
him  mto  battle  after  battle,  when  neither  of  is  knew 
who  would  ever  come  back  alive — without  finding 
out  where  his  heart  was  ?  and  when  Mistress  Lettice 
came  back  from  beyond  seas  as  a  lily  among  thorns, 
I  knew  she  was  all  right,  which  made  it  plain.  But  I 
never  breathed  it  to  a  soul.  She  (i.  e.  Rachel)  of  course 
always  knew  everything,  whether  she  was  told  or 
not.  But  she  was  unbelieving  about  it — fearful  and 
unbelieving.  I  never  knew  her  so  bad  about  any- 
thing. I  believe  it  was  because  she  wished  it  so 
much.  Scores  of  times  she  has  vexed  me  sore  about 
it.  '  There  was  no  promise  folks  should  be  happy,' 
said  she,  '  and  have  all  they  wished  for.'  I  had  to 
mind  her  of  the  morning  long  ago,  when  we  went 
bunting  in  the  dark  for  a  promise  for  Master  Roger 
when  he  was  in  that  sore  trouble,  and  no  promise 
came,  till  at  last  she  found  we  wanted  none,  for  we'd 
got  beyond  the  promises  to  Him  who  was  the  Prom- 
ise of  all  promises.  And  here  she  was  standing  up 
again  for  a  promise  !  '  It  was  spiritual  inward  bless- 
ing we  were  looking  for  then,  Job,'  said  she  (nigh 
as  perverse  as  that  poor  Quaker  maid), '  and  of  course 
that's  all  plain.  This  is  outward,  and  that's  another 
thing  altogether.  No  doubt  the  good  Lord  would 
have  us  all  forgiven  and  made  good.     But  it's  by 


Oy  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  4u 

no  mea-iis  clear  to  my  mind  He'd  have  us  all  married 
and  made  happy  just  in  the  way  we  wish.'  'Well, 
said  I,  '  thou'rt  a  wise  woman,  a  world  wiser  than 
me.  But  thou'st  never  fought  under  Oliver.  He 
said  he  knew  not  well  to  distinguish  been  outward 
blessings  and  inward.  To  a  worldly  man  they  are 
outward ;  to  a  saint,  Christian.  The  difference  is  in 
the  subject,  if  not  in  the  object.'  Nor,"  continued 
Job,  "  do  I  know  to  distinguish,  or  care.  Least- 
ways thou'st  been  the  best  means  of  grace  the  Lord 
eveL  sent  to  me.  And  why  shouldn't  Master  Roger 
and  Lettice  be  like  thee  and  me?  Seems  to  me 
scarce  thankful,  anyway,  to  put  marriage  among  the 
outward  blessings,  like  meat !'  Which,  if  it  did  not 
convince  her  (for  the  best  of  women  can't  be  always 
amenable  to  reason),  anyways  turned  the  conversa- 
tion. And  now  it's  all  come  about  as  I  said,  wife, 
and  thou  must  give  in  at  last,"  he  concluded.  "  Sure, 
thou'lt  never  be  as  stiff-necked  as  those  poor  wilful 
Scottish  ministers,  who  were  so  wise  they  couldn't 
even  see  what  the  Almighty  meant  after  He  had 
spoken  in  thunder  at  Dunbar.  Poor  souls,"  he 
added,  "poor  stiff-necked  souls;  they're  learning  it 
now  on  the  other  side  of  the  book,  by  the  gallows 
and  the  boot,  and  the  congregations  scattered  by 
the  Kind's  soldiers  on  the  hills." 

Rachel  did  not  plunge  into  the  vexed  question  his 
words  raised;  as  to  whether  the  event  proved  the 
equity  of  the  cause.     Sh    only  said,— - 

"  Promise  or  no  promise.  Job  ;  inward  or  out vvardj 
I've  no  manner  of  doubt  the  good  Lord  minds 
whether  we're  happy  or  no,  and  makes  us  as  happy 


4.16  Oy  BO 771  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

as  may  be,  while  being  made  as  good  as  we  can  be< 
Which,  of  course,  He  minds  ten  thousand  times 
more;  because  the  goodness  is  the  happiness,  come 
which  way  it  may,  by  the  drought  or  the  flood. 
But  if  the  happiness  will  make  us  good,  no  fear  of 
His  stinting  that.  Good  measure  pressed  down  and 
running  over,  that's  His  measure,  and  that's  the 
measure  He's  given  Mistress  Lettice  and  Master 
Roger  at  last,  and  thee  and  me,  this  many  a  year. 
Good  measure,  with  His  sign  and  mark  on  it  to  show 
it  is  good,  and  no  counterfeit." 

Aunt  Dorothy  was  the  only  one  among  us  who 
thought  it  necessary  to  temper  Roger  and  Lettice's 
content  with  dark  forebodings. 

"It  is  no  smooth  sea,  dear  heart,"  said  she  to 
Lettice,  "  thy  bark  is  launched  upon,  nor  can  ye  re- 
main long  in  any  haven." 

"  I  know  that  I  have  married  a  soldier,"  replied 
Lettice,  "  and  a  soldier  in  a  warfare  which  has  no 
discharges.  But  I  know  his  lot,  and  I  have  chosen 
it  for  mine,  Aunt  Dorothy." 

"  Aunt  Dorothy "  fell  from  her  lips  for  the  first 
time  like  a  caress.  There  was  always  a  kind  of 
sweet  easy  majesty  about  Lettice,  which  made  her 
caresses  seem  a  dignity  as  well  as  a  delight,  and 
Aunt  Dorothy  for  the  time  ceased  her  forebodings. 
Her  love  for  Lettice  was  stronger  than  she  confessed 
or  knew,  and  she  was  always  more  easily  led  by 
Lettice  than  by  any  amongst  us  to  take  a  brighter 
view  of  things  and  men.  Not  that  Aunt  Dorothy 
Was  one  given  to  moan  or  whine.  She  did  not  dread 
Buffering,  but  she  believed  it  her  duty  to  dread  joy 


OV  BOTH   SIDES   CF  THE  SEA. 


4'? 


and  was  therefore  ever  wont  to  shadow  sunny  daya 
witn  the  severe  foresight  of  evil  days  to  come.  Dark 
days  indeed  were  her  bright  days,  since  on  these  she 
permitted  herself  to  enjoy  such  stray  sunbeams  as 
rarely  fail  to  break  through  the  darkest. 

During  three  years  after  Roger  and  Lettice'a 
marriage  we  kept  much  at  Xetherby.  Sir  Walter's 
tailing  health  made  him  choose  the  quiet  of  his 
country  home.  Moreover,  the  doings  of  that  de- 
graded court,  which  the  loyal  Mr.  Evelyn  called 
"rather  a  luxurious  and  abandoned  rout  than  a 
court,"  displeased  the  old  cavalier  of  the  court  of 
Charles  the  First  as  much  as  it  did  any  Puritan 
amongst  us.  Except  for  the  contrast  which  made 
it  yet  bitterer  for  us  who  had  hoped  much  from  the 
Commonwealth,  and  remembered  Milton  dwelling 
at  Whitehall,  and  the  blameless  family  of  the  Pro- 
tector making  a  pure  English  home,  with  dignified 
courtly  festivities  and  family  prayer,  where  now  the 
eager  contests  of  the  gaming-table  and  wretched 
French  songs  resounded,  on  Sundays  as  well  as 
on  other  days,  through  the  apartments  where  the 
King's  unstresses  reigned. 

An  alliance  grew  up  between  Aunt  Dorothy,  Sir 
Walter,  and  good  Dr.  Rich.  Aunt  Dorothy  could 
never  so  far  forgive  my  father,  Roger,  my  husband, 
or  Job  Forster,  for- turn. ng  (as  she  believed)  liberty 
into  license,  and  lawful  resistance  into  rebellion,  as 
to  consort  with  them  again  as  of  the  same  party. 
With  Sir  Walter  she  had  a  broad  common  ground 
in  their  loyalty  to  the  late  king,  their  lamentations 
ever  the  present  court,  their  general  adniiraticn  o/ 


+  l8  ON  BOTH  SILA'S    OF  THE  SEA. 

the  nobleness  of  the  past,  and  their  general  hopeless- 
ness as  to  the  future.  But  with  Dr.  Rich  her  sym- 
pathies were  deeper.  He  would  bring  her  passages 
fr.mi  St.  Austin,  which  she  thought  only  second  tc 
St.  I'aul;  and,  in  return,  she  would  acknowledge 
that  there  was  one  passage  which  she  had  not  once 
understood  as  she  ought,  and  that  was,  "  Resist  not 
the  power,  for  they  that  resist  shall  receive  to  them- 
selves damnation."  She  agreed  with  Mr.  Baxter 
and  Mr.  Henry  as  to  the  duty  of  attending,  at  least 
occasionally,  the  services  in  the  church  established 
by  law.  And  he  agreed  that  from  primitive  times 
private  assemblies  for  edification  in  twos  and  threes 
were  not  forbidden. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  they  had  debates. 

"  England  also  has  now  her  St.  Bartholomew," 
she  said  once,  "  and  no  doubt  she  will  have  her  ret- 
ribution. Charles  the  Ninth  of  France  died  in  aero- 
nies  of  remorse  soon  after  that  fatal  day  of  the  exe- 
cution of  the  Huguenots." 

"  Anniversaries  are  not  always  wise  to  observe, 
madam,"  he  replied.  "On  the  eve  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's day  seventeen  years  ago,  the  Commonwealth 
prohibited  the  use  of  the  Common  Prayer  even  in 
private.  That  also  is  an  anniversary.  And  some 
might  say  this  St.  Bartholomew  is  the  retribution, 
God  forbid  I  should  accuse  Him  of  punishing  one 
injustice  by  another.  But  by  all  means  let  us  avoid 
predictions.  Even  agonies  of  remorse  are  not  the 
most  hopeless  end  of  guilty  souls." 

"  Yet,"  said  my  father,  "  nothing  is  more  safe 
than  predictions  of  retribution.     Most  men  leirg 


ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA.  4,g 

fikely  to  suffer,  and  all  men  being  sure  to  die,  wl  at 
can  be  safer  than  to  threaten  either  affliction  or 
death,  or  both,  to  those  we  deem  guilty  ?  It  seems 
to  trie,"  he  continued,  "  an  endless  and  fruitless  toil 
to  make  up  the  balance  of  accounts  between  the 
churches  as  to  uersecution.  Perhaps  all  that  can 
be  said  is,  that  those  who  have  had  the  least  power 
have  had  the  privilege  of  inflicting  the  least  wrong. 
He  who  ruled  England  once  said  '  he  never  yet 
knew  the  sect  who,  when  in  power,  would  allow 
liberty  to  the  rest.'  " 

"  He  was  for  license,"  interposed  Aunt  Dorothy. 
"  Heaven  corbid  we  should  call  that  liberty." 

"  Ay,  sister  Dorothy,  no  doubt,"  said  my  father, 
smiling,  "  with  many  sects  liberty  to  any  other  is 
license.  That  was  what  the  Protector  thought. 
Be  thankful  that  you  have  no  chance  just  now  of 
making  a  St.  Bartholomew  of  your  own." 

"  The  Protector  has  had  his  retribution,  brother," 
said  Aunt  Dorothy,  solemnly,  "  let  us  leave  him 
and  his  politics  in  peace." 

"  But,  sir,"  rejoined  my  father,  turning  to  Dr. 
Rich,  "  after  all,  the  worst  retributions  are  in  our 
sins.  The  loss  of  the  soul  in  sinning  must  be  greater 
than  any  subsequent  loss  in  suffering ;  and  I  con- 
fess, to  me  no  severer  retribution  seems  possible  to 
the  Church  which  inflicts  this  present  wrong  than 
the  wrong  itself,  the  loss  of  two  thousand  of  her 
most  fervent  and  holy  pastors,  and  the  rending 
from  her  of  the  tens  of  thousands  who  revere  and 
follow  them.  The  losses  of  churches,  after  all,  are 
not  :.n  Uvings  but  in  lives  ;  not  in  inonev  but  in  men." 


4.20  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

Bitter  and  biting,  indeed,  were  the  times  around 
us,  yet  the  prisons  of  those  days  were  more  hon- 
ourable than  the  palaces.  Better  beyond  compan- 
ion any  disgrace  and  suffering  that  reckless  Court 
could  inflict  than  the  disgrace  of  beloncrino;  to  it. 

With  two  thousand  good  ministers  and  their 
families  thrown  destitute  on  the  world,  it  was  im 
possible  that  any  of  those  who  honoured  them 
sould  feel  their  own  possessions  anything  but  a 
trust  to  be  scrupulously  husbanded  for  their  suc- 
cour. Many  hundreds  also  were  in  prison,  though 
none,  I  rejoice  to  think,  of  those  two  thousand, 
were  ever  in  prison  for  debt.  Then  there  were  the 
Quakers,  who  bore  the  brunt  of  the  battle,  carrying 
passive  resistance  as  close  to  action  as  possible,  and 
persisting  in  meeting  in  public  assemblies,  though 
certain  to  be  dispersed  by  constables  or  soldiers 
with  wounds  or  loss  of  life. 

Indeed  it  was  for  this  reason,  amongst  others,  we 
kept  away  from  London  during  the  years  following 
the  passing  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  in  the  hope  of 
keeping  Annis  Nye  out  of  the  peril  we  knew  she 
would  confront  if  near  enough  to  attend  a  meeting 
of  Friends. 

It  was  not  any  one  party  in  the  state  whose 
hearts  began  to  fail,  but  the  good  men  of  all 
parties. 

It  was  no  longer  Royalists  or  Roundheads  only 
that  were  sinking,  but  England.  It  was  not  Puri- 
tanism or  Presbyterianism  only  that  the  Court 
affronted,  but  righteousness,  purity,  and  truth. 

Already  the  weapons  of  ecclesiastical  or  theolo 


OjV  both  sides  of  the  sea. 


421 


gical  controversy,  the  subtle  and  "unanswerable'' 
arguments  wherewith  Episcopalians,  Presbyterians, 
Independents,  Erastians,  Calvinists,  Arminians, 
Semi-Arminians,  and  all  the  sixty  sects  Mr.  Baxter 
had  enumerated,  had  been  assailing  each  other  dic- 
ing the  past  years,  seemed  to  hang  rusting  over  our 
heads,  as  mere  curious  antiquities,  such  as  the  bills 
•and  crossbows  our  ancestors  had  used  in  the  wars 
of  the  Roses. 

The  contest  was  being  carried  to  other  ground  ; 
to  the  oldest  battle-field  of  all,  and  the  most  plaiuly 
marked. 

As  Job  Forster  said, — 

"  There's  a  £ood  deal  of  the  fi^htino-  that's  been 
done  these  last  years,  Mistress  Olive,  that's  been  a 
sore  puzzle  to  a  plain  man  like  me.  I  mean  tho 
wars  with  words  as  well  as  with  swords.  Friend 
and  foe  used  so  much  the  same  battle-cries,  and 
fought  under  banners  so  much  alike,  that  when  a 
man  had  gained  a  victory,  it  wasn't  always  easy  to 
see  whether  to  make  it  a  day  of  humiliation  or  of 
thanksgiving.  The  safest  way  was  to  make  it  both. 
And  after  he  who  could  see  for  us  all  was  taken 
from  our  head,  things  got  clean  hopeless,  and  it 
was  all  shooting  in  the  dark.  But  now  there's  a 
kind  of  doleful  comfort  in  putting  by  all  the  long 
hard  words  with  which  Christians  fight  each  other, 
and  taking  up  for  weapons  the  Ten  Commandments. 
A  man  feels  more  sure  anyway  they  can't  hit  wrong. 
There's  been  a  deal  of  fighting  and  a  deal  of  talk- 
ing  these  last  years,  and  seems  to  me  now  as  if  the 
Almighty  were  calling  us  all  to  a  Quaker's  sileni 
36 


<J22 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 


meeting,  to  keep  still  a  bit,  and  mind  our  own  busi- 
ness. Perhaps  when  the  talking  and  the  fighting 
begin  again,  they'll  both  be  the  better  for  the 
■ilence." 


Chapter   XI. 


LETTICES     DIARY 


"^^^jAVENANT    HALL,    October,    1664.— 

The  blow  has  fallen  on  us  at  last. 
Aunt  Dorothy  and  Annis  Nye  are 
together  in  prison  at  Newgate. 
"  Annis  was  the  first  taken.  Olive  being  for  a 
time  in  London,  nothing  could  keep  the  maiden 
from  attending  the  forbidden  meeting  of  Quakers, 
held  at  the  Bull  and  Mouth,  Bishopsgate.  And  so 
it  happened  that,  one  night,  they  looked  for  her 
return  in  vain,  and  Dr.  Antony  going  to  search  for 
her,  found  that  the  assembly  had  been  broken  up 
by  the  soldiers  with  violence,  and  that  among  those 
seized  and  thrown  into  prison  was  Annis  Nye. 
They  would  have  paid  anything,  or  taken  any  paina 
to  rescue  her,  but  the  peculiar  difficulty  in  the  case 
of  the  imprisonment  of  the  Quakers  is,  that  they 
will  do  nothing  and  suffer  nothing  to  be  done,  which 
would  in  any  way  recognize  the  justice  of  their  sen- 
tence. The  magistrate  in  this  case  (as  in  another 
which  occurred  at  the  same  time)  was  willing  to 
have  set,  Annis  free,  if  she  would  have  given  any 
(488) 


^24  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

pledge  to  abstain  from  attending  tmch  meetings  in 
future.     But  she  said, — 

"  '  Ask  me  not  to  do  aught  against  my  cousei- 
ence  ?  If  I  were  set  free  to-day  I  must  go  to-mor* 
row,  if  the  Lord  so  willed  me,  to  meet  the  Friends 
at  the  Bull  and  Mouth.' 

"  Nor  would  she  suffer  bail  to  be  given.  And  sc 
she  was  sentenced  to  be  carried  beyond  seas  to  the 
plantations  in  Jamaica  —  she  and  divers  other 
Quakers,  men  and  women ;  the  men  being  sen- 
tenced to  Barbadoes,  and  the  women  to  Jamaica. 

"  Aunt  Dorothy's  heart  was  moved  for  the  maid  ; 
but,  nevertheless,  she  shook  her  head,  and  said  she 
had  always  prophesied  such  willfuness  could  have 
no  other  end. 

"  '  It  was  a  pity,'  said  she,  '  the  rashness  of  such 
disorderly  people  should  throw  discredit  on  the 
sufferings  of  sober  Christians.' 

"  For  she  still  clung  to  the  belief  that  there  was 
a  legal  submission,  a  conformity  to  the  furthest 
limit  possibly  compatible  with  fidelity  to  consci- 
ence, which  must  be  a  safeguard  for  the  personal 
liberty  of  those  who,  like  Mr.  Baxter  and  herself, 
rigidly  kept  within  it. 

"  But  she  was  soon  to  be  driven  from  this  last 
point  of  hope.  In  July  the  Conventicle  Act  came 
into  action,  ordering  that  any  religious  meetings 
in  private  houses,  or  elsewhere,  of  more  than  five 
people  besides  the  household,  rendered  those  whc 
attended  them  liable  to  imprisonment  or  fines. 

"And  from  that  time  no  Puritan  gentleman,  wh 
had  an  enemy  base  enough  to  inform  against  hiu 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


425 


or  happened  to  come  in  the  way  of  a  common 
mercenary  informer,  could  be  safe.  Some  even 
deemed  it  unsafe  to  say  a  grace  when  five  strangers 
weie  present. 

"At  Netherby,  a  few  of  the  villagers  had  al- 
ways been  wont  to  join  our  family-prayer  from 
time  to  time. 

"  At  the  time  of  the  coming  of  the  Conventicle 
Act  into  operation,  Aunt  Dorothy  chanced  to  be 
alone  in  the  house,  the  rest  of  the  family  being  in 
London,  and  she  scorned  to  make  any  change. 

"  On  Sunday  morning,  an  ill-looking  suspicious 
stranger  dropped  in  on  their  morning  exercise. 
And  on  the  next  the  constables  made  their  appear- 
ance at  the  same  hour,  and  arrested  Aunt  Dorothy 
in  the  king's  name. 

"  The  servants  talked  of  resistance,  and  the  con 
stables  suggested  bail,  but  Aunt  Dorothy  refused 
either :  the  first,  from  loyalty  to  the  king ;  the 
second,  from  loyalty  to  truth.  She  was  guilty  of 
no  oifence  against  God  or  the  king,  said  she,  and 
was  ready  to  stand  her  trial. 

"  Accordingly  she  is  in  Newgate,  and  Roger  is 
in  London,  doing  all  he  can,  in  conjunction  with 
Mr.  Drayton  and  Dr.  Antony,  to  effect  her  libe- 
ration. 

"  Twelfth  Night,  1665.— I  little  thought  that  ever 
again,  while  we  are  both  on  earth,  anything  should 
separate  Roger  and  me. 

"  I  had  gone  OMer,  as  I  thought,  all  possible  dan- 
gers, and  resolved  that,  in  all,  duty  must  keep  me 
by  his  side.     Exile,  war,  imprisonment,  all  I  would 

36* 


426  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA 

share.     What  duty  could  ever  arise  so  strong  ai 
my  duty  to  cleave  to  him  ? 

"And  yet  now  Roger  lies  in  prison  in  London, 
and  I  am  imprisoned  here,  kept  from  him  by  soft 
ties  of  duty  stronger  than  bolts  of  iron. 

"For  in  the  cradle  by  my  side,  breathing  the 
sweet  even  breath  of  an  infant's  sleep,  lies  our  little 
Harry  Davenant  Drayton. 

"  And  in  the  next  chamber,  with  the  door  open 
between,  lies  my  father,  sleeping  the  feverish 
broken  sleep  of  sickness,  from  time  to  time  call- 
ing me  to  his  side  by  an  uneasy  moan  or  a  rest- 
less movement ;  scarcely  able  to  bear  me  out  of 
his  sight. 

"  Roger  was  arrested  for  speaking  some  words 
of  good  cheer  to  a  little  company  who  had  gath- 
ered at  early  dawn  in  a  solitary  place  to  hear  their 
ancient  pastor.  The  pastor  had  been  thrown  into 
prison,  and  the  poor  flock  waited  in  vain.  Roger 
came  to  tell  them  of  their  pastor's  imprisonment, 
said  a  short  prayer  and  a  few  words  of  good  coun- 
sel, and  would  thus  have  heartened  and  then  dis- 
missed them,  when  the  officers  came  and  seized 
him.  Strange  that  he,  so  little  given  to  overmuch 
discourse,  should  be  in  prison  for  speaking. 

"  There  were  no  bonfires  or  festivities  to-day,  as 
on  that  Twelfth-night,  all  but  a  quarter  of  a  century 
since,  when  all  Netherby,  and  my  own  brothers,  and 
I  made  merrv  around  the  winter  bonfires :  that  nis;ht 
which  was  nio-h  costing  Roger  so  dear  ;  all  life  and 
all  the  Civil  Wai  before  us,  then  as  unknown  as  to- 
morrow now ! 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  4.27 

*  How  scattered  the  company  who  met  then! 
On  battle-field,  and  lonely  heath,  and  in  thi  silent 
church ;  in  this  old  house  (which  feels  aim  ;>st  as 
lonely  and  silent  now),  and  in  prison 

"  Yet  better  now  than  then,  in  many  wa^  8,  and 
for  most  of  us.  Some  of  the  dearest  who  could  never 
have  rested  here,  at  rest  for  ever  above.  Roger 
with  a  rest  in  his  heart  no  prison  can  rob  him  of. 
And  my  father  nearer  my  mother,  I  think,  tL  *n  ever 
before  in  heart  and  soul. 

"  I  read  the  Prayer-book  to  him  often,  4,nd  the 
Bible.  He  makes  little  comment,  but  loves  .  0  listen, 
and  asks  for  the  chapters  and  hymns  my  mother 
loved  best.  And  sometimes  he  asks  me  what  com 
forted  her  most  when  she  thought  of  dying.  And  I 
tell  him, — ■ 

"  '  Christ  our  Lord.  The  thought  of  Him  ;  all 
He  said,  did,  and  suffered  on  earth;  Himself  living 
now  in  heaven.  All  else,  she  said,  was  Hades,  the 
Invisible.  But  Christ  had  become  Visible;  had 
been  manifested,  seen,  touched,  and  handled.  "  God 
refuses  us  all  such  poor  pictures,"  (said  she,)  "as 
Pagans  and  Mussulmans  have  of  their  paradises  and 
elysiums;  all  pictures,  except  such  as  it  is  plain  are 
not  pictures,  but  symbols;  either  because  they 
contradict  themselves  —  as  'gold  like  transparent 
glass,'  and  seas  'mingled  with  fire' — or,  because  we 
are  told  they  are  symbols,  like  the  living  water 
and  the  Tree  of  Life.  The  other  world  remains  to 
us  Hades.  But  Christ  the  Lord  has  been  seen  by 
mortal  eyes,  held  in  the  mortal  arms  of  a  mortal 
mother.     His  feet  bathed  with  tears  and  kissed  by 


+28  ON  BOTH    SIDES   OF  THE  SLA. 

the  lips  of  an  adoring,  penitent  woman.  His  haul 
laid  with  healing  touch  on  the  leper  none  else  would 
touch.  His  hands  nailed  to  a  cross,  and  His  feet ; 
t  he  prints  of  the  nails  seen  by  Thomas ;  His  voice 
heard  on  the  slopes  of  Olivet,  by  the  sea-side,  by  the 
well.  Christ  the  Lord  was  heard  and  seen,'  she 
said.  '  And  that  makes  all  the  Hades  a  place  not 
of  darkness,  but  of  light  to  me,  where  the  human 
heart  can  long  to  be,  to  adore  Him,  and  yet  remain 
human.' " 

"  '  Did  she  say  that  ?'  my  father  says.  '  Did  she 
B£y  that?  Then  that  is  what  I  can  understand  too. 
Even  she  could  have  seen  nothing  but  a  blank  of 
darkness  in  it  but  for  Him;  but  for  Him.  Then, 
sweetheart,  no  wonder  I  seem  like  groping  in  the 
dark  sometimes.  I  who  have  so  much  more  sin  to 
be  forgiven,  and  so  much  less  faith  to  see.' 

"  Then  once  I  told  him  how  that  horror  of  thick 
darkness  came  on  me  when  she  died,  and  how  it 
was  shone  away  by  the  Apostles'  Creed.  And  he 
listened,  gazing  at  me  as  if  his  soul  were  living  on 
the  words.  Then  I  read  him  the  gospels ;  the  sto- 
ries of  the  resurrection. 

"  And  then  often,  again  and  again,  he  asks  me  to 
repeat  what  my  mother  said.  And  each  time,  in- 
stead of  growing  dull  by  repetition,  it  seems  to  grow 
living  to  us  both. 

"  So  I  can  have  no  doubt  that  my  place  is  here, 
and  not  in  the  prison  with  Roger,  where  otherwise  it 
would  be  liberation  to  me  to  oro. 

"January  30///,  1665. — No  word  from  the  prison 
for  some  days.   The  snow  is  white  on  all  the  breadths 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  ^2g 

of  the  Fens,  bounded  only  like  the  sea  by  tin  gray 
sky,  broken  only  by  the  Mere,  black  with  ice,  and 
by  the  dark  limbs  of  the  trees  which  have  stripped 
themselves  'like  athletes'  to  fio-ht  the  winter  storms. 

"  Sixteen  years  since  they  laid  the  king  amidst 
the  falling  snow,  among  his  fathers,  in  the  Chapel  at 
Windsor. 

"  How  little  our  sentences  avail ! 

"  Executed  this  day  sixteen  years  as  a  murderer 
and  traitor  !  Celebrated  to-day  in  every  church 
throughout  the  land  as  a  martyr  of  blessed  memory; 
while  the  bones  of  those  who  put  him  to  death  lie 
mouldering  under  the  gallows. 

"  Yet  who  shall  say  that  the  final  sentence  is  given 
yet  ?  Higher  and  higher  the  cause  is  carried  from 
tribunal  to  tribunal,  from  the  angry  present  to  the 
■calm-judging  generations  to  come,  from  these  again 
to  the  Tribunal  above,  from  which  there  is  no  ap- 
peal. 

"  Of  what  avail  for  us  to  judge  ? 

"The  sentence  is  given  there  already;  given,  and 
known  to  those  whom  it  most  concerns. 

"  What  matters  it  what  we  are  prattling  about  it 
here  below? 

"My  husband  has  left  among  his  papeis  some 
letters  and  journals  from  the  other  side  of  the  sea, 
which  are  well  worn  by  much  reading,  and  noted  in 
the  margin  in  many  places,  so  that  in  reading  them 
I  converse  with  him,  and  find  much  comfort  every 
way,  both  in  the  text  and  the  comment. 

"The  simple  story  goes  straight  to  my  heart, 
nerves  and  braces  it  at  once.     Never,  I  think,  wera 


43° 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


sufferings  borne  with  more  of  courage  and  less  of 
repining. 

"  Frost,  famine,  salt  water  freezing  on  their  scanty 
clothing  till  it  was  hard  as  the  Ironsides'  armour. 
Then  '  vehement '  coughs  came  on,  '  hectic,'  and  con- 
gumption;  still  they  bore  cheerfully  on.  Out  of  the 
undred,  seventeen  died  in  the  first  February  after 
their  landing,  sixteen  in  March,  sometimes  three  die 
in  a  day.  At  last,  at  the  end  of  the  winter,  of  one 
hundred  persons,  scarce  fifty  remained;  the  living 
scarce  able  to  bury  the  dead ;  the  well  not  sufficient 
to  tend  the  sick.  And  in  a  notice  which  touches  me 
to  the  quick,  the  journal  says: — 

"  '  While  we  were  busy  about  our  seed,  our  gov- 
ernor, Mr.  Carver,  comes  out  of  the  field  very  sick, 
complains  greatly  of  his  head  ;  within  a  few  hours 
his  senses  fail,  so  as  he  speaks  no  more,  and  in  a  few 
days  after,  dies,  to  our  great  lamentation  and  heavi- 
ness. His  care  and  pains  were  so  great  for  the 
common  good,  as  therewith  'twas  thought  he  op- 
pressed himself,  and  shortened  his  days;  of  whose 
loss  we  cannot  sufficiently  complain  ;  and  his  wife 
deceases  about  five  or  six  weeks  after.' 

"  She,  belike,  did  not  complain  of  his  loss.  She 
endured  ;  and  died. 

"And  shall  I  complain  while  Roger  lives?  and  ol 
bodily  hardship  I  know  nothing;  though  that,  in- 
deed, is  scarce  the  hardest. 

"  Half  the  exiles  dead,  yet  the  rest  never  lost 
heart  or  distrusted  God  ;  but  went  on,  and  toiled 
and  conquered  ; — and  made  a  home  and  a  ref.ige  foi 
their  brethren; — began  a  New  World. 


OX  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  CEA. 


4JJ 


"  The  sorrows  were  borne  in  unrepining  silence, 
as  knowing  God  the  Father  would  not  try  them  on 
many  that  could  he  spared.  The  mercies  are  re- 
corded with  grateful  minuteness. 

"  After  their  first  harvest  from  seed  saved  from 
half-starving  mouths,  they  appointed  an  annual 
Thanksgiving  Day;  afterwards,  after  a  time,  an  an- 
nual fast.  But  the  thanksgiving  came  first.  And 
they  made  it  a  right  merry  day  :  preparing  for  it  by 
a  holiday  of  hunting  game  for  the  feast.  A  whole- 
some and  not  gloomy  piety  theirs  seems  to  me,  like 
John  Bunyan's.  Moreover,  they  have  eyes  to  see. 
The  journal  tells  of  forests  '  compassing  about  to  the 
very  sea,  with  oaks,  pines,  ash,  walnut,  birch,  holly, 
juniper,  sassafras,  and  other  sweet  wood  ;'  of  forest 
paths  and  sweet  brooks;  of  quiet  pools  and  deep 
grassy  valleys;  of  vines,  too,  and  strawberries;  and 
sorrel  and  yarrow,  and  cherry  trees  and  plum  trees 

"  Deer  range  the  forests,  and  wilder  animals.  One 
poor  man  whose  feet  were  'pitifully  ill'  with  the 
cold,  crept  abroad  into  the  woods  with  a  spaniel.  A 
little  way  from  the  plantation,  two  wolves  ran  after 
the  dog,  who  fled  between  his  leo-s  for  succour:  he 
had  nothing  in  his  hand,  but  took  up  a  stick  and 
threw  at  one  of  them  and  hit  him.  They  ran  away, 
but  came  again,  he  got  a  pale-board  in  his  hand, 
and  '  they  sat  on  their  tails  grinning  at  him  a  good 
while,  and  then  went  their  way,  and  left  him.' 

"Cranes  and  mallards  waded  about  the  marshy 
places  an  1  plashed  in  the  pools;  and  now  and  then 
they  started  partridges  and  '  milky-white  fowl ;'  an<? 
birds  sang  pleasantly  among  the  trees. 


4}2  ON  BOTH    SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

"The  world  seems  so  wholesome  there,  so  udven. 
tnrous,  so  full  of  life.  Sometimes  I  think  if  Roger 
were  out  of  prison,  one  day  I  should  like  to  go  there 
with  him  and  our  babe,  and  all  the  rest ;  away  from 
the  conflicts  of  this  distracted  land;  out  of  the  way 
of  courts  and  prisons  and  Conventicle  Acts,  to  con- 
quer some  more  homes  from  the  wilderness. 

"  But,  perhaps,  this  is  only  restlessness  and  repin- 
ing ;  in  which  case  I  should  be  no  worthy  member 
of  such  a  company. 

"  I  wonder  if  Roger  ever  thought  of  this,  and 
never  liked  to  mention  it  to  me,  knowing  how  1 
love  the  old  country  and  the  old  church  ?  The 
pages  are  so  well-worn  and  so  carefully  noted. 
When  we  meet  again,  at  all  events,  I  will  show 
him  I  am  ready  for  anything  he  deems  good. 
'  Thy  country  shall  be  my  country ;  whither  thou 
goest  I  will  go  ;  where  thou  diest  I  wrill  die,  and 
there  will  I  be  buried.' 

"  Yes,  none  can  rob  me  ever  more  of  that  sacred 
right. 

'•'•February  2nd. — A  letter  from  Roger  from  tho 
prison. 

"Brief  enough,  as  his  letters  and  speeches  for 
the  most  part  are,  yet  marvellously  lengthy  for  him. 

"  'Our  case  is  but  little  to  be  commiserated,'  he 
writes,  'being  so  much  lighter  than  that  of  others, 
and  we  trust  soon  to  be  ended. 

"  '  I  might,  indeed,  have  as  fair  a  room  as  at 
Netherby,  and  as  good  eggs,  cheese,  butter,  and 
bacon  as  a  soldier  could  wish  for  sold  here  in  tli€ 
prison. 


OJV  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  43i 

"'But  no  mnn,  liale  and  strong  (as  I  am,  sweet 
heart,  so  never  be  downcast),  could  know  that  hun- 
dreds of  men  and  women,  imprisoned  for  much  the 
S'vme  cause  as  we,  are  under  the  same  roof,  ill-clad, 
ill-fed,  and  worse  lodged,  and  enjoy  his  feast  alone. 

"  '  The  Quakers,  as  usual,  provoke  the  charge, 
and  hear  the  brunt  of  it.  The  men's  sleeping- 
room,  till  lately,  was  a  great  hare  chamber  with 
hammocks  hung  between  a  pillar  in  the  midst  and 
the  wall,  in  three  tiers,  one  above  another;  the  air, 
by  the  morning,  enough  to  breed  a  pestilence.  God 
grant  it  do  not.  For  although  this  is  somewhat 
mended,  these  crowded  prisons  are  little  better 
than  pest-houses  at  the  best.  And  pestilences  do 
not  stay  where  they  begin.  Whitehall  is  not  so 
far  from  Newgate  but  that  the  poison  might 
spread.  The  Friends  outside  do  what  they  can  to 
succour,  clothe,  and  feed  those  within,  arranging 
their  help  with  a  singular  order  and  care.  But 
much  is  left  for  us  to  aid  in.  Wherefore,  sweet 
heart,  send  what  warm  woolseys  and  wholesome 
country  food  thou  canst.  Leonard  Antony  will 
bring  it  and  see  it  well  bestowed. 

"  '  We  have  good  hope  of  deliverance,  by  pay- 
ment of  sundry  fines  and  other  moneys.  Annis 
Nye,  we  fear,  is  sentenced  to  the  plantations  in 
Jamaica.  But  Aunt  Dorothy  will,  no  doubt, 
gpeedily  be  freee,  and  bring  thee  tidings.  So  God 
keep  thee  and  the  babe.  And  be  of  good  cheer. 
I  was  never  of  better  heart.     Farewell. 

ttlP.S. — Thy  brother  Walter  hath  been  to  see 
me.  He  was  much  moved.  And  he  is  doing  what 
37 


434  0N  BOTH  SIDE'S   OF  THE   SEA. 

he  can  for  our  release.     But  he  looks  sorely  aged 
and  changed.' 

"  February  ]0M.— Aunt  Dorothy  is  at  Netherby 
again. 

"  She  looks  thin  and  pale  after  such  prison-far* 
and  lodging.  She  brings  certain  tidings  that  Roger 
will  soon  be  free. 

"  Her  wrath  seems  chiefly  directed  against  the 
exactions  of  the  prison-officers. 

"  '  Harpies  !  '  said  she,  '  unconscionable  harpies. 
I  would  not  have  given  a  groat  of  good  money  to 
fill  their  unhallowed  coffers,  and  to  buy  the  rancid 
lard  and  fetid  oil  they  dare  to  call  butter  and 
bacon,  or  demeaned  myself  to  ask  them  the  favour 
of  a  lodging  separate  from  the  vagabonds  and 
purse-pickers,  had  it  not  been  for  that  poor  wilful 
maid,  Annis  Nye.  She  looked  like  a  ghost  or  a 
corpse;  a  corpse  with  the  eyes  of  an  angel,  and 
the  courage  of  a  lion.  Yea,  the  courage  of  a  lion 
more  than  the  meekness  of  a  martyr.  Brave  I  say 
she  is  as  any  woman  ever  was.  And  brave  the 
Quakers  are.  But  meek  I  never  will  call  them. 
One  of  them  was  imprisoned  for  "finishing  a  job," 
mending  shoes,  on  the  Sabbath  morning !  On  re- 
ligious principles,  quoth  he ;  breaking  the  Sabbath 
"  on  religious  grounds  !"  And  when  in  prison  he 
let  them  nearly  whip  him  to  death,  rather  than 
confess  himself  guilty  by  doing  the  malefactors 
prison  work.  Indeed,  he  would  have  died  but  foi 
the  tender  nursing  of  Mr.  Thomas  Ellwood  and  the 
other  Friends,  dressing  his  wounds  with  balsams. 
For  that  they  are   friendly  to  each   other,  these 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF   THE  SEA.  435 

fanatics,  no  one  can  deny,  brave  and  friendly; 
but  meek — surely  they  are  not.  I  had  almost  to 
belie  myself  by  pretending  to  want  a  waiting- 
woman  (a  bondage  I  hate),  before  I  could  prevail 
on  that  poor  maid  to  let  me  have  her  in  a  room 
apart,  and  nurse  and  cherish  her  as  she  needed. 
For  she  had  been  sorely  bruised  and  wounded  in 
the  scattering  of  the  meeting,  where  the  soldiers 
took  her ;  and  had  been  busier  since  with  her  "  con- 
cerns "  and  her  "  callings,"  to  all  seeming,  than 
with  mollifying  her  wounds  and  bruises.  I  am  a 
woman  of  no  weak  nerve,  niece  Lettice,  but  my 
heart  sickened  when  I  came  to  see  how  she  must 
have  suffered.  And  she  as  patient  as  a  lamb , 
dumb  and  patient  those  Quakers  can  be.  I  will 
never  deny  that ;  dumb  and  patient,  brave  and 
friendly.  And  now  there  she  is  again  alone,  with- 
out a  creature  in  their  sober  senses  near  her  to 
keep  her  from  her  "  concerns "  and  her  "  calls." 
There  she  is  with  ever  so  many  others,  sentenced 
to  "  service  "  in  Jamaica.' 

"  When  Job  Forster  heard  this  sentence,  ho 
brushed  his  hand  across  his  eyes. 

"  '  Poor  maid  !  poor,  pleasant,  wilful  maid !'  said 
he, 

"  But  before  Ions:  he  seemed  to  take  a  more 
cheerful  view. 

"  '  Perhaps  it's  for  the  best,  after  all,  Mistress 
Lettice.  Who  knows  but  she  might  have  been 
seized  with  a  concern  to  go  to  preach  to  the  Grand 
Turk,  or  the  Pope,  or  the  Dey  of  Algiers?  Several 
of  the  women  Friends  have  done  such  things.    Not 


13 6  ON  BOTH  SIDES   0/"   THE  SEa 

that  the  Turks  are  the  worst  foes  for  a  Quaiter 
They  listen  to  them  as  meek  as  lambs  for  they 
Jiink  they  are  mad ;  and  they  think  the  Almighty 
speaks  through  mad  people.  And  then  they  escort 
them  out  of  the  country,  as  gracious  as  may  be. 
And  I  don't  see  what  any  saint  could  do  better 
with  a  Quaker,  poor  blind  infidels  though  those 
Turks  be.  Nay,  the  Turks  are  not  the  worst  dan- 
ger for  a  Quaker.  She  might  have  had  a  concern 
to  go  to  New  England,  to  testify,  as  others  of  her 
sect  have  done,  against  the  severity  of  their  treat- 
ment there.  And  New  England,  they  do  say,  is 
about  the  hottest  place  a  Quaker  can  go  to  just 
now.  They  don't  listen  to  them,  like  the  poor 
Turks.  And  they  do  escort  them  out  of  the  coun- 
try; but  not  graciously.  They  beat  them  from 
town  to  town,  and  threaten  them  with  the  gallows 
if  they  come  back  again,  which  makes  it  a  stronger 
temptation  than  any  Quaker  can  resist  to  go  back 
as  soon  as  they  can.' 

"  This  is  a  great  perplexity  to  me.  I  thought 
the  people  in  New  England  had  gone  there  on  ac- 
count of  religious  liberty.     I  must  ask  Roger. 

"February  17. — Roger  is  with  us  again;  scarce 
the  worse  for  his  imprisonment,  except  a  little 
hollow  in  the  cheeks,  and  a  good  deal  of  want  of 
repair  in  his  clothes.  I  see  he  did  not  use  the 
clothes  I  had  made, 

"  '  A  little  more  in  good  campaigning  order,  he 
says,  if  1  attempt  to  condole ;  '  a  little  relieved  of 
over-abundance  of  flesh.     That  is  all.' 

"It  is  the  way  of  tli3  Draytons  generally,  »nd 


OS   BOTH  SIDES   OF   lilE  SEA.  437 

of  Roger  in  particular,  that  their  spirits  rise  be- 
yond the  ordinary  level  in  a  storm.  I  suppose  tha 
family  has  been  used  to  stormy  weather  so  long 
tha*,  they  feel  it  their  element.  They  are  at  home 
in    c,  and  like  it. 

"  I  have  asked  him  about  New  England.  Ilia 
face  quite  beamed,  and  his  tongue  seemed  unloosed, 
when  he  found  the  thought  of  going  to  the  planta- 
tions was  not  so  terrible  to  me. 

"  He  confessed  that  he  had  often  thought  it  might 
be  the  best  resource,  if  things  do  not  mend  here, 
but  had  shrunk  from  mentioning  it  to  me. 

" '  We  are  all  cowards,  in  some  direction,'  he 
said,  with  a  smile.  'How  was  I  to  know,  sweet 
heart,  I  had  married  a  Deborah,  whose  heart  would 
never  fail  ?' 

"  '  Thou  dost  not  despair  for  England  ?'  I  said. 

"  '  God  forbid  !'  said  he.  '  But  the  lives  of  na- 
tions count  by  centuries,  and  ours  by  years,  and 
that  but  precariously.  And,  meantime,  while  there 
is  so  little  to  be  done  here,  I  have  sometimes 
thought  we  might  serve  the  old  country  best  by 
extending  her  dominion  and  anticipating  her  free- 
dom in  the  new.' 

"'But,'  said  I,  'I  cannot  make  out  about  thie 
freedom.  Job  Forster  says  they  are  by  no  raeang 
gentle  to  Quakers.' 

"  He  paused  a  little. 

" '  The  Quakers  are  not  quite  content  with  quietly 
pursuing  their  own  way,'  he  said.  '  With  all  their 
objections  to  war  and  teaching  of  passive  resist- 
ance, their  warfare  is  certainly  not  on  the  defensive 
HI* 


438  ON  BOTH  SILLS  OF  THE  SEA. 

but  a  continual  assault  on  other  sects.  And  at 
present  the  New  England  plantations  aie  strug- 
gling, not  "  for  wellbeing,  but  for  being  ;"  which 
is  a  struggle  in  which  men  are  apt  to  make  rough 
terms.  By-and-by,  they  will  feel  stronger,  and  be 
gentler ;  and  the  Quakers,  seeing  that  every  man's 
hand  is  no  longer  against  them,  will  cease  to  set 
their  tongues  against  every  man.' 

"  '  1  scarce  think,'  he  added,  after  a  pause,  in  that 
low  tone  to  which  his  voice  always  naturally  falls 
when  he  speaks  of  his  old  general,  '  that  the  place 
is  yet  to  be  found  on  earth  where  such  liberty  exists 
as  the  Protector  would  have  had  in  England. 

"  '  But  it  has  scarce  come  to  the  alternative  of 
exile  yet.  I  cannot  think  that  England  will  be 
steeped  much  longer  in  this  Lethe  of  false  loyalty, 
forgetting  not  Eliot  and  Hampden,  and  the  Com- 
monwealth alone,  but  Magna  Charta,  and  all  her 
history :  all  that  makes  her  England.' 

lettice's  diary. — (  Continued.) 

"  Londox,  April,  1665. — The  last  weeks  of  watch 
ing  by  my  father's  sick-bed  are  over.  No  bitterness 
mingles  with  the  sorrow  At  first  it  seemed  as  if 
we  could  do  nothing  but  give  thanks  for  the  peace 
and  patience  of  those  last  days ;  and  the  rest  for  the 
spirit,  so  weary  and  hopeless  as  to  this  world  and 
its  future — so  full  of  lowly,  trembling  hope  as  „o  the 
other. 

"  Then  came  the  ebbing  back  of  the  tide  of  affec- 
tion in  a  tide  of  grief,  the  sense  of  blank  and  loss 
that  must  oome ;  and  Roger  thought  it  best  T  should 


OK  BOTH  SIDES  OF   THE  SEA.  439 

leave  the  old  scenes  altogether  for  a  while,  and  com*3, 
to  Olive's  home. 

"For  the  old  home  at  the  hall  can  never  be  a 
home  for  us  again. 

"Roland  and  his  wife  took  possession  at  once, 
with  workmen  from  town,  and  a  train  of  new  serv- 
ants. Happily,  my  father  had  pensioned  many  of 
the  old  household. 

"My  sister-indaw  has  remodelled  my  mother's 
oratory,  and  the  old  places  so  sacred  to  me,  as  the 
wished,  after  the  newest  fashions  at  Whitehall. 

"But  these  changes  in  things,  however  saend, 
are  little  indeed,  compared  with  the  changes  in  peo- 
ple;  the  evil  influences  brought  into  the  household 
and  the  village  by  the  dissolute  train  of  serving  m  en 
and  wornen,  trained  in  the  wicked  manners  of  1  lie 
Court. 

"London-,  May,  1665. — The  spring  seems  to  un- 
fold her  robes  slowly  this  year,  and  feebly,  like  a 
butterfly  I  saw  yesterday,  in  which  lii'e  was  so  low 
that  it  died  whilst  struggling  out  of  its  chrysahs. 
There  has  been  much  drought.  The  scant  foliage 
in  the  parks  ami  by  the  road-sides  grows  old  and 
gray  with  dust  and  drought  almost  as  soon  as  it 
is  out. 

"  There  have  been  comets  and  strange  sights  in 
the  sky  this  winter.  Aunt  Dorothy  thinks  they  aro 
for  the  nation's  sins  ;  but  .Mr.  Drayton,  who  attends 
the  lectures  of  the  lloyal  Society  at  Gresham  Col- 
lege, says  they  have  to  do  with  the  revolutions  of 
the  heavens,  not  with  the  revolutions  in  England. 
'  The  signs  of  the  times,'  says  he,  '  are  not  in  the  sky, 


4  jo  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

but  in  the  Whitehall  gaming-tables.'  But  Aun» 
Dorothy  shakes  her  head,  and  says  the  Royal  Soci- 
ety, the  Quakers,  aifd  the  Court  together,  are  fast 
ui'derrnining  the  faith  of  the  people. 

"  There  are  rumours  that  one  or  two  poor  folk  in 
the  villages  of  St.  Giles'  and  St.  Martin's-in  the- 
Fields,  between  Westminster  and  the  City,  lie  sick 
with  a  malady  men  like  not  well  to  name. 

"But  all  just  goes  on  as  usual.  The  king  feeds 
the  wild-fowl  and  plays  pall-mall  in  the  park,  with 
the  throng  of  idlers  about  him. 

"  There  is  little,  indeed,  at  Whitehall  to  recall 
that  it  ever  was  what  Roger  and  the  foreign  ambas- 
sadors say  it  was  in  the  days  of  the  Commonwealth ; 
a  virtuous  princely  home ;  still  ]^ss  to  make  it  possi- 
ble to  think  the  king  recalls  it  as  the  scene  of  his 
father's  martyrdom.  A  gaming-house,  where  wicked 
women  are  lodged,  and  fill  the  galleries  night  and 
day  with  licentious  revelry;  where  the  wife  sits 
apart,  neglected  and  despised,  while  her  husband 
spends  her  fortune  on  the  mistress  with  whom  he 
compels  her  to  associate  ! 

"  Is  there  no  English  gentleman  left,  no  relic  of 
old  knighthood,  that  these  things  can  be? 

"  Queen  was  a  sacred  name  to  the  cavaliers  of  my 
youth,  Were  there  no  cavaliers  left  when  the  young 
queen,  after  patiently  sitting  apart  some  time  in  her 
neglected  corner  of  the  room  while  the  base  throng, 
with  a  king  at  their  head,  gathered  around  the  mis- 
tress— at  length  rose  and  withdrew  to  hide  her  bit- 
ter tears  in  her  chamber; — were  there  none  of  the 
old  cavaliers  left  to  rally  indignantly  round  her  and 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE    SEA. 


44 


shame  the  king  back  to  her?  Were  there  no  Eng- 
lish gentlewomen  left  to  uphold  her  in  the  courage- 
ous and  womanly  resistance  she  dared  at  first  to 
make  to  the  degradation  of  such  company  as  the 
king  forced  on  her? — To  say  to  her,  'For  his  sake 
and  your  own,  never  yield  to  such  dishonour  !  Bet- 
ter weep  alone,  neglected  for  life,  a  widowed  wife, 
than  stoop  to  be  but  the  first  of  such  a  company !' 

"  Alas !  now,  poor  lady,  she  has  learned  to  hide 
her  indignation,  and  to  converse  freely  with  those 
any  man  with  a  spark  of  true  manhood  in  him,  prof- 
ligate though  he  might  be,  would  have  kept  from 
her  sight. 

"  And  some  still  speak  of  the  king  as  a  model  of 
grace  and  courtesy,  and  extol  his  infinite  jest  and 
wit ;  comparing  the  polish  of  th^se  refined  days  with 
the  rough,  soldierly  jokes  of  the  Usurper! 

"  These  days  refined,  and  those  coarse  !  Roger 
says  there  is  more  coarseness  in  the  most  polished 
compliment  of  this  hollow  Court  than  in  the  roughest 
joke  a  man  like  Cromwell  could  ever  make.  Just 
as  there  is  more  coarseness  in  the  theatre  now  estab- 
lished  than  in  the  rudest  jests  in  Shakspeare,  whose 
plays  the  king's  courtiers  and  mistresses  are  too 
'  polite'  to  act,  and  the  courtiers  too  'polite'  to  enjoy. 

"For  the  royal  favourites  now  are  to  be  seen  on 
the  stage.  The  'lady'  now,  they  say,  does  not 
reign  alone.  The  poor  young  queen  has  this 
wretched  revenge,  at  least,  that  the  king  can  be 
constant  to  no  love,  lawful  or  not. 

"  Bear  and  bull  bailing,  too,  are  restored  among 
the  'refinements'  of  the  Court.     Hut,  perchance,  I 


442 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  7' HE  SEA. 


am  the  bitterer  on  this,  in  that  this  degradation 
presses  me  so  close.  The  gleam  of  better  hope  that 
broke  on  us  for  Walter,  when  he  appeared  at  our 
marriage  and  was  reconciled  to  my  father,  has  long 
since  vanished ;  and  he  is  swept  away  again  in  the 
whirlpool  of  the  Court. 

"  It  is  this  which  obliges  me  to  think  of  evils  from 
which  otherwise  I  might  turn  my  eyes. 

"  This  Dance  of  Satyrs  is  to  my  brother,  indeed, 
a  Dance  of  Death.  These  fires  of  sin  are  burning 
away  his  very  life  and  soul,  and  none  can  quench  them. 

'iJune  3. — The  numbers  of  poor  sick  folk  in  St 
Giles'  and   St.  Martin's   have   increased   fearfully 
The  nobles  and  rich  men  take  alarm ;  many  houses 
are  deserted  ;  the  roads  crowded  with  coaches  full 
of  fugitives. 

"  The  Plague  is  amongst  us  !     The  Plague  ! 

"  To  none  of  us  not  yet  beyond  middle  life  are 
the  terrors  of  that  word  fully  known.  Mr.  Drayton, 
Aunt  Dorothy,  and  the  aged,  know  the  meaning  of 
the  word  too  well.  In  1636,  nearly  thirty  years 
ago,  was  the  last  great  desolation  of  the  City.  Be- 
fore that  it  recurred,  with  more  or  less  force,  every 
few  years.  Then  it  swept  away  a  fifth  of  the  in- 
habitants. But  for  the  last  sixteen  years  it  has  been 
scarcely  seen  in  London  ;  merely  four  or  five  people 
in  the  year,  in  the  lowest  districts,  dying  of  it,  and 
bo  preventing  its  being  altogether  forgotten. 

"  Said  Aunt  Dorothy :  '  The  Commonwealth  was 
not  all  a  godly  people  could  wish.  But  during  the 
Commonwealth  the  Plague  did  not  visit  the  City. 
That  scourge,  at  all  ever  ts,  was  not  deemed  needful 


OX  BOTE  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA. 


443 


Nuw  tlie  Couit  has  come  back — or  I  should  not  say 
come  back — such  a  Court  as  was  never  known  has 
come  to  us  from  those  wicked,  foreign,  Popish  parts : 
and  with  the  Court  comes  the  Plague.' 

"  'The  real  Plague  has  been  among  us  some  years,' 
said  Mr.  Drayton.  '  Heaven  grant  this  Plague  may 
be  thf  purification.  But  take  heed,  sister  Dorothy 
take  heed  how  we  interpret  Providence  before  the 
time.  The  scourge  has  fallen  on  too  many  of  late 
for  us  to  say  too  hastily  this  is  the  Father's  rod,  and 
that  is  the  Lictor's ;  or  this  is  the  King's  accolade 
to  smite  his  servant  into  knighthood,  from  the  lower 
place  of  service  to  the  higher.  What  sayest  thou, 
sister  Gretel  ?' 

"  '  For  me,  brother,'  she  replied,  '  there  is  little 
temptation  of  being  too  quick  to  interpret,  because 
I  am  so  slow  to  understand.  So  I  find  it  the  safest 
way,  when  the  rod  falls  on  others,  to  hope  it  is  the 
King's  accolade ;  when  it  falls  on  myself,  I  know 
well  enough  it  is  the  Father's  rod  —  the  loving 
Father's  loving  chastening,  yet  sorely  needed.' 

"  But  Aunt  Dorothy  set  her  lips  rigidly. 

" '  Some  men's  sins  are  open  beforehand,'  said  she, 
'going  before  to  judgment.  And  all  men  say  it 
does  seem  very  notable  just  now  that  death  seizes 
most  on  the  profane,  and  seems  to  pass  the  sober 
and  religious  people  by.' 

"June  3. — Rumours  of  a  great  victory  over  the 
Dutch  Fleet.  The  news  scarce  stirs  up  the  smit- 
ten city  to  the  faintest  semblance  of  joy  or  triumph. 
Yet  are  victories  not  so  frequent  now  as  to  be  irade 
common. 


444  0N  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE    SEA. 

"June  25.— The  Court  has  fled  to  Oxford.  White* 
hall  is  empty  and  silent.  That  mockery,  at  least, 
is  gone  out  of  sight  of  the  people's  misery. 

"  The  Court  has  fled,  and  the  good  Nonconfor- 
mist ministers  have  come  back,  and  are  allowed 
to  preach  in  the  churches  from  which  they  were 
driven. 

"June  30. — We  have  held  a  family  consultation 
to-day  whether  to  stay  or  go.  Roger  and  Leonard 
Antony  had  no  doubt  of  their  duty. 

"Many  of  the  physicians  have  left  (to  attend 
their  fugitive  patients,  they  say),  which  makes  it 
all  the  more  needful,  Dr.  Antony  thinks,  for  him  to 
remain. 

"  Many  of  the  clergy,  also  (though  by  no  means 
all),  have  fled  (to  tend  their  fugitive  flocks,  they 
say).  And  Roger  deems  it  the  plain  duty  of  a 
Christian  man,  who  is  here  already  by  Providence 
placed  in  the  midst  of  the  peril,  to  stay,  and  give 
what  help  he  can  to  the  stricken  and  the  bereaved. 
by  counsel,  alms,  and  words  of  Christian  hope. 
This  is  the  kind  of  season  that  unlocks  Roger's 
lips.  He  grows  eloquent,  when  dying  men  and 
women  look  to  him  to  lift  their  hearts  to  God.  At 
least,  the  few  words  he  speaks  are  eloquent,  and 
refresh  the  heart  like  cold  water  after  a  burning 
drought — cold  and  fresh,  because  of  the  deep  places 
from  which  it  comes. 

"They  tried  a  little  to  persuade  Olive  and  me 
and  the  children  to  seek  refuge  elsewhere. 

"But  not  much,  seeing  that  all  pe/suasion  could 
be  of  no  avail  to  move  us  to  this. 


OX  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE    SEA. 


445 


*  Thank  God,  it  is  not  my  duty  to  be  parted  from 
n(m  now.     God  spares  us  this  agony. 

"Indeed  there  is  one  mitigation  to  the  anguish 
of  {.his  time  of  terrors.  Death  comes  to  many 
households  now  almost  as  the  Glorious  Epiphany 
for  which  my  mother  looked ;  as  it  were  with  a 
groat  trumpet,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  smiting 
whole  families  together,  without  parting,  from  earth 
to  heaven . 

"  For  what  richer  mercy  could  we  ask  ? 

"  July. — The  sunny  sky,  unshaded  by  a  cloud,  still 
smiles  its  terrible  steady  stony  smile  on  the  droop- 
ing city;  like  a  countenance  which  despair  has 
smitten  into  idiotic  vacancy ;  like  an  eye  from 
which  madness  has  dried  the  tears. 

"It  is  strange  to  have  such  leisure  as  we  have 
now  to  listen  and  think.  For  in  one  thing  Roger 
and  Dr.  Antony  are  firm.  They  will  not  suffer  us 
to  go  into  the  infected  streets,  nor  indeed  to  leave 
the  garden,  save  by  the  water-gate,  to  give  the 
children  fresh  air  in  the  meadows  by  the  river. 

"  We  keep  everything  as  much  as  possible  in 
its  wonted,  even  course.  Our  family  prayer  and 
psalm  have  not  been  omitted  once  ;  Roger's  father 
leading  it,  for  Roger  and  Leonard  are  seldom  pre- 
sent, 

"  Maidie  and  Dolly  sew  and  help  us  in  the  house, 
where  there  is  much  to  do;  since  we  hold  it  duty 
by  no  means  to  suffer  our  servants  to  remain  in 
the  infected  city,  unwilling  as  they  were  to  depart. 
Mistress  Gretel,  Mistress  Dorothy,  and  Olive,  there- 
fore, do  the  kitchen   and  the  household  work,  and  1 

as 


446  OV  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

and  the  young  maidens  help  all  we  can ;  although 
(being  brought  up  too  helplessly)  I  am  not  of  half 
the  use  I  would  be. 

"  This  regular  even  living  Dr.  Antony  deems  the 
best  precaution.  He  believes  a  feverish  convulsivo 
kind  of  religion  is  as  dangerous  as  any  other  ex- 
citement, and  that  we  have  great  need  at  such  (as 
at  all)  times  of  the  exhortation,  Study  to  be  quiet, 
and  to  do  your  own  business. 

"  Much  as  he  honours  those  who  preach  in  the 
churches,  he  could  desire  that  their  exhortations 
were  sometimes  less  alarming.  The  people  are 
roused  and  alarmed  enough,  he  says,  by  the  pesti- 
lence. Death  itself  is  preaching  the  Alarm  and 
the  Call  to  the  unconverted.  What  sermon  can 
preach  'Prepare'  like  Ten  thousand  Deaths  in  a 
week?  The  preachers  should  preach  Christ  and 
His  peace,  he  thinks.     And  so  no  doubt  many  do. 

"  The  magistrates  do  what  they  can  to  produce 
the  same  regularity  in  the  city.  London  is  not 
wholly  abandoned  by  all  her  rulers  in  her  sore 
need.  Bread  is  as  abundant  and  cheap  as  ever, 
though  it  must  be  brought  to  us  at  some  peril. 

"  There  is  a  great  quiet  in  the  streets.  No  holi- 
day processions  now.  The  merry-makers  are  all 
gone  from  the  city  or  from  the  world.  No  funeral 
processions.  There  are  no  burials,  except  by  night. 
The  sity  is  dying.  But  there  are  no  tolling  bells, 
no  reverent  slow  steps  of  the  mourning  train.  The 
magistrates  dare  not  let  the  mourners  go  about 
the  streets  by  day. 

"Death  is-  stripped  of  all  the  pomps  with  whiclj 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


44' 


we  seek  to  hide  its  terrors,  and  stands  bare.  The 
only  funeral  procession  is  the  dead-cart  with  its 
ghastly  drivers;  the  dead-cart  met  at  the  head 
of  each  alley  with  shrieks  of  despair  which  break 
the  silence  of  the  night.  Twice  the  drivers  of  that 
cart  were  lost,  and  the  horses  rushed  wildly  on. 
But  no  one  knows  if  the  drivers  died  or  fled.  Thti 
general  tomb  is  that  dread  Pit  in  the  fields  where 
the  dead  are  thrown  at  midnight,  of  which  we 
scarce  dare  even  think. 

"The  pestilence  makes  no  distinction  that  any 
of  lis  can  understand  now.  Aunt  Dorothy  has 
well-nigh  given  up  seeking  to  read  God's  judg- 
ments, which  at  first  she  and  many  thought  so  dis- 
tinct and  distinguishing. 

"Yet  amid  all  these  horrors  there  are  allevia- 
tions such  as  "sometimes  do  make  the  meaning 
shine  through  them,  as  if  they  were  illuminated 
from  within. 

"  Divisions  have  ceased.  Instead  of  disputing 
questions  of  precedence  as  on  a  mock  battle-field, 
Christians  draw  inward  to  the  citadel,  which  is 
the  sole  and  common  refuge  of  us  all. 

"  Mere  religious  talk  has  ceased. 

"  People  whose  talk  is  deeper  than  their  life,  do  not 
dare  to  talk  for  fear  of  having  to  prove  their  words 
the  same  hour  in  dying. 

"  People  whose  life  lies  deeper  than  their  speech, 
do  not  need  to  talk  of  what  they  feel.  The  pe^ce 
which  sets  them  free  to  serve  and  comfort  all 
around,  speaks  enough,  with  very  tew  words, 

u  Persecution  has  ceased. 


44 g  OX  L9TH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

"  The  pestilence,  with  its  cruel  Act  of  Uniformity 
Las  altogether  annulled  that  of  the  king.  Divers 
of  the  ejected  ministers,  now  that  ten  thousand  are 
dying  in  a  week,  have  resolved  that  no  ohedience 
to  the  laws  of  mortal  men  whatever  can  justify 
them  in  neglecting  men's  souls  and  bodies  in  such 
extremities.  They  therefore  stay  or  return.  They 
go  into  the  forsaken  pulpits,  unforbidden,  to  preach 
to  the  poor  people  before  they  die ;  also  to  visit  the 
sick,  and  get  such  relief  as  they  can  for  the  poor,  es- 
pecially those  who  are  shut  up  in  the  smitten  houses. 

"  The  fear,  and  hope,  which  at  first  made  people 
avoid  each  other,  have  passed  together.  And  the 
churches  are  crowded  whenever  any  preach  whe 
speak  as  if  they  testified  what  they  knew. 

'  "  Religion,'  Roger  says,  '  is  gaining  such  a  hold 
of  numbers  of  these  weeping,  silent  listeners,  as, 
living  or  dying,  will  not  be  loosed  again.' 

"And  (unless  the  Puritan  preaching  is  different 
from  any  I  ever  heard,  or  thought  to  hear)  the  ser- 
mons are  such  as  the  evident  possibility  of  the 
preachers  never  preaching  another,  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  many  of  the  congregation  never  hearing 
another,  alone  can  make  them. 

"They  are  messages,  not  statements  or  argu- 
ments; scarcely  so  much  appeals  as  messages.  The 
calmest  allusion  to  danger  penetrates  the  heart  like 
the  archangel's  trumpet,  when  ten  t  iOusand  dying 
lips  are  echoing  it. 

"  '  You  are  lost — wandering  and  lost  in  sin? 

"  That  has  a  strange  power,  when  we  know  it  to 
be  true,  and  see  before  us  the  edge  of  the  abyss. 


GN  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA.  44g 

** '  The  son  of  God  has  come  to  seek  and  to  save  the 
lost.' 

"He,  Himself,  not  the  plague,  but  the  Saviour 
ie  here,  seeking  the  lost  now  ;  not  to  judge  but  to 
save. 

"  God  has  so  loved  the  world;  not  hated,  let  these 
horrors  say  what  they  may — not  forgotten — but 
loved;  not  willed  this  open  world  to  perish,  let 
these  grass-grown  streets,  and  these  shutters  rat- 
tling against  the  empty  houses,  these  midnight 
burials  of  thousands,  these  death-wails,  this  death- 
silence,  say  what  they  will,  not  to  perish  ;  the  true 
perishing,  the  perishing  in  sin,  of  sin,  is  not  His 
will,  never  His  will,  but  the  being  saved,  out  of  sin 
and  from  sin.  This  salvation  is  as  near  vou  as  the 
plague.  Nay,  the  plague  is  only  the  merciful  thun- 
der calling  to  it. 

"Few  words  are  needed  to  move  men  now;  no 
new  words.  The  older  the  better.  If  the  old  for- 
gotten words  once  lisped  at  a  mother's  knee,  better 
than  all. 

uO  Walter!  Walter!  my  brother!  Art  thou 
here  still  in  this  plague-smitten  city,  or  hast  thou 
fled  with  that  Court  smitten  with  a  plague  so  infi- 
nitely more  terrible  ?  Would  God  thou  wert  here 
t<  hear  those  sacred  words  of  heavenly  forgiveness 
ai  i  strength,  echoed  back  to  thy  heart  once  more, 
as  from  our  mother's  lips,  from  among  these  congre- 
gations of  dying  men! 

"  August  25. — It  has  come  close  to  us  at  last. 

"Our  door  is  marked  witli  the  red  cross  now. 

"The  sweetest  and  ripest  souls  among  us  -Uoger'n 
38* 


45o  ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

father  and  Aunt  Gretel— have  been  stricken,  and 
are  gone  borne. 

"  Yesterday  morn.  3g,  before  daybreak,  I  was  rest- 
ing on  ray  bed,  having  watched  through  the  night, 
when  I  heard  the  latch  of  the  garden-door,  which 
was  left  open  for  Roger  and  Dr.  Antony,  softly 
lifted.  I  thought  it  might  be  Roger,  and  crept 
down-stairs. 

"  At  the  door  I  met  Annis  Nye. 

"  Her  face  was  pale  and  worn,  but  serene  as  ever, 
and  her  voice  as  calm. 

"  « I  heard  that  you  were  all  here,  without  any  to 
serve  you,'  she  said,  '  and  I  thought  that  was  a  call 
to  me  to  come.' 

"  '  Do  you  know  into  what  peril  you  come  ?'  I 
asked. 

"  '  I  saw  the  plague-sign  on  the  street-door,'  she 
said ;  '  so  I  came  round  through  the  garden.' 

"  I  clasped  her  in  my  arms,  and  kissed  her,  and 
wept.  Tears  are  not  common  with  u*  now ;  but  I 
could  not  help  these.  Generous  deeds  always  touch 
the  spring  of  tears,  I  think,  more  easily  than  sorrow. 

"  What  was  stranger  than  my  being  thus  moved, 
when  Aunt  Dorothy  came  down  and  saw  Annis, 
and  heard  why  she  had  come,  she  did  as  I  had  done , 
she  took  the  maiden  to  her  heart  and  wept. 

"  But  what  sounded  stranger  yet  in  that  house 
and  city  of  death,  when  the  children  saw  her,  they 
made  the  hushed  home  ring  for  a  moment  with  their 
j  oyous  welcomes. 

"  '  Annis  is  at  home  again  !'  they  said  ;  '  Annis  u 


CX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SKI. 


45< 


•afe.     She  will  nurse  us  all,  and  keep  every  on* 
quiet,  and  we  shall  all  get  well.' 

"Meantime,  Mistress  Dorothy  had  busied  herself 
preparing  food,  -which  she  set  before  Annis,  and  with 
difficulty  persuaded  her  to  take  a  little  bread  and 
milk. 

"  She  had  a  strange  story  to  tell,  and  she  told  it 
in  few  words,  as  was  her  wont,  at  our  questioning. 

"  'I  and  other  women  Friends  were  sentenced  to 
the  plantations  in  Jamaica,'  she  said.  '  But  the 
ship-masters  refused  to  take  us.  They  held  our  sen- 
tence unjust,  and  feared  the  judgment  of  the  Lord 
if  they  meddled  with  us.  At  last  one  was  found 
who  taok  us,  he  being  denied  a  pass  down  the  river 
from  the  plague-smitten  city  unless  he  covenanted 
to  carry  us.  They  had  trouble  in  getting  some  of 
us  on  board.  For  they  would  not  acknowledge 
their  sentence  so  far  as  to  climb  willingly  into  the 
ship.  So  they  had  to  be  hoisted  on  board  like  mer- 
chandise. To  this  I  was  not  called.  For  which  I 
was  thankful.  For  it  angered  the  sailors  sorely. 
"They  would  hoist  merchants'  goods,"  said  they, 
"but  not  men  and  women."  But  the  officers  took 
the  ropes,  saying,  "  They  are  the  king's  goods."  So, 
as  chattels,  we  were  shipped  for  the  plantations. 
But  we  had  scarce  reached  the  sea  when  the  pesti- 
lence broke  out  among  us.  One  and  another  sick- 
ened and  died.  So  that  the  ship-masters  would  pro- 
ceed no  further,  but  cast  us  on  shore,  and  me  among 
the  rest.' 

"There  was  a  kind  of  comfort  in  feeling  that, 
coming  thus  from  an   infected  ship,  the  geuerou» 


4-ij  2  0JV  £0777  67Z>£S   OF  THE  SEA. 

maiden  had  not  really  increased  her  risk  by  devoting 
herself  to  our  service,  freely  as  she  had  dared  to  do 
so.     And  our  risk  could  scarce  be  increased. 

"  Having  told  her  tale,  Annis  quietly  folded  her 
out-of-door  garments,  laying  them  aside  in  the  old 
places,  and  said  to  Aunt  Dorothy,  '  Which  way  can 
I  serve  thee  best  ?' 

"  We  took  her  to  Mr.  Drayton's  sick-chamber 
Olive's  eyes  brightened  with  the  soft  moisture  of 
grateful  tears  as  Annis  entered,  where  she  sate  by 
her  father's  bed. 

"  But  that  was  no  place  or  season  for  spoken 
thanks  or  questionings.  Annis  at  once  fitted  into 
ker  place  among  the  nurses.  And  I  know  aot  how 
any  of  us  could  have  survived  those  days  and  nights 
of  watching,  but  for  her  help. 

"  Aunt  Dorothy  said, — 

"  '  I  will  take  heed  how  I  speak  lightly  of  Quakers 
and  their  calls  again.' 

"  Yes;  the  two  readiest  among  us  have  been  called 
home.  Roger's  father  and  his  mother's  sister.  Hon- 
oured and  beloved  beyond  any. 

"  Yet  we  speak  of  them  quietly,  almost  without 
tears. 

"  Death  is  so  around  us — without,  within,  every- 
where— that  it  seems  the  most  natural  thins:.  We 
say,  'They  are  gone  home,'  with  less  sense  of  separa- 
tion  than  in  ordinary  times  we  say,  '  They  are  gone 
to  Netherby,'  with  far  less  than  we  should  have 
said,  '  They  have  gone  across  the  seas.' 

"  It  is  so  likely  we  may  be  with  them  again  to 
morrow — to-day ! 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE    SEA.  4.53 

"I  look  back  a  page  or  two  in  this  Diary,  and  the 
words  they  spoke  and  I  wrote  so  lately  have  become 
sacred,  dying,  farewell  words. 

"  '  The  Father's  rod.''  Yes,  that  was  what  they 
thought.  '  The  King's  touch  smiting  them  from  the 
lower  service  to  the  higher.''  That  is  what  we  think, 
and  we  say  it  to  each  other  as  their  epitaph. 

September. — No  distinction,  indeed,  this  pestilence 
makes  as  to  whom  it  smites. 

"  What  I  wished,  yet  scarce  dared  to  wish,  for 
Walter  has  come  true. 

"  Could  I  have  dared  to  wish  it,  had  I  thought  it 
could  come  ? 

"  Two  nights  since,  Roger  came  to  my  bedside 
and  said, — 

"  '  Lettice,  I  dare  not  spare  thee,  even  thee,  from 
a  call  such  as  this.  Canst  thou  be  ready  to  come 
with  me  quickly,  to  visit  one  smitten  with  plague  ?' 

"  From  any  voice  but  his,  the  sudden,  midnight 
summons  would  have  set  my  heart  beating  so  as  to 
rob  me  of  the  power  to  obey. 

"But  there  is  always  a  calm  about  him  which 
nerves  me  to  do  anything.  Besides,  he  said,  '  Come 
with  me?     And  that  was  strength  itself. 

"I  did  not  waste  time  in  questioning.  He  left  me 
to  tell  Annis  Nye  not  to  wake  Olive. 

"  I  was  dressed  in  a  few  minutes.  Then  I  wont 
and  kissed  the  babe.  It  might  be  perilous  for  me 
to  touch  his  soft  cheek,  rosy  with  sleep,  when  I  came 
back.  If  ever  I  came  back  to  him!  For  that  wa» 
a  probability  which  must  be  met  in  such  a  leave 
taking. 


454 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 


"  As  I  stood  by  the  child's  little  bed,  Rogei*  earn* 
back. 

"  '  We  will  kneel  beside  him,'  he  said. 

"  And  in  a  few  brief  words  he  prayed,  for  strength 
to  comfort,  for  wisdom  to  guide,  for  balm  to  heal. 

"  Before  we  rose,  I  knew  what  he  meant 

"  '  It  is  Walter,'  I  said. 

"  He  took'my  hand  in  his,  and  we  spoke  no  more. 

"  Silently  we  went  out,  our  steps  echoing  through 
the  streets,  the  great  bonfires,  kept  up  now  in  each 
street  to  purify  the  air,  lighting  us  on  our  way,  now 
illuminating  with  tongues  of  fitful  flame  the  red 
cross  and  the  closed  door,  now  more  drearily  light- 
ing up  the  empty  chambers  of  the  houses  of  the 
dead,  which  needed  no  longer  to  be  closed,  whose 
half-opened  shutters  creaked  restlessly  in  the  night 
winds. 

"  We  stopped  at  the  steps  of  what  had  been  a 
stately  mansion. 

"  The  door  was  ajar,  as  Roger  must  have  left  it. 
There  were  none  to  usher  us  into  the  lofty  hall  or 
up  the  wide  staircase,  on  whose  stone  stairs  our 
steps  echoed  so  noisily  through  the  deserted  cham- 
bers, step  as  softly  as  we  might. 

"Through  one  luxurious  chamber  after  another 
we  passed,  our  steps  hushed  on  soft  Persian  rugs, 
ftnd  softened  by  tapestried  walls. 

"  In  one  lay  virginals  and  lutes  and  song-books,  as 
if  from  a  recent  concert.  In  another,  a  table  spread 
for  a  feast — the  wine  still  sparkling  in  the  glasses, 
and  summer-fruits  mouldering  on  the  porcelain. 

"And  in  the  last  chamber,  upon  a  stately  gildeJ 


ON   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 


455 


bed  with  silk  curtains,  he  lay,  ray  brother,  with 
scarce  open,  half-vacant  eyes,  which  seemed  as  if 
their  sight  and  meaning  were  gone,  his  hands 
clenched  in  agony. 

"  Yet  he  saw  and  knew  me,  for  he  cried  with  an 
energy  which  pierced  the  silence  like  a  death-wail — 

" '  Take  her  away,  Roger !  take  her  away  !  I 
will  not  have  that  at  my  door  !     Take  her  away !' 

"  But  I  went  close  to  him,  and  gently  unclasped 
his  clenched  hand,  and  kissed  his  forehead,  and 
said — 

" '  Two  of  us  have  been  smitten  already,  Walter. 
We  are  past  peril.' 

"  '  Who  have  been  smitten  ?'  he  asked  suddenly. 
1  Not  your  child  ?' 

"  '  No,'  I  said — and  I  felt  my  voice  falter — '  not 
our  Harry.' 

"  Then  his  mind  seemed  to  wander,  for  the  far- 
off  past  came  back  so  vividly  as  to  blot  out  the 
days  that  had  intervened. 

"  '  Harry,  my  brother  Harry — don't  speak  to  me 
of  Harry,'  he  said.  '  He  loved  me,  and  sent  a 
dying  message  that  he  looked  to  meet  me.  And 
he  never  will — he  never  will.'     And  then, — 

"'I  am  dying,  Lettice,  don't  you  see?  dying — ■ 
body  and  soul.  For  mercy's  sake  don't  come  near 
me.  If  you  can  bear  it,  I  can't.  There  will  be 
torments  enough  soon.  Don't  burn  my  soul  thua 
with  your  purity  and  your  love.' 

"  I  took  his  hand,  and  pressed  it  to  my  lips,  for  ] 
could  not  speak.  But  he  drew  it  away  with  a  con- 
vulsive energy. 


c56  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

"  Take  ber  away,  Roger ! — don't  let  her !  Shft 
doesn't  know  what  I  am,  or  who  it  wag  these  hands 
touched  last.' 

"  And  then  at  intervals  he  told  ns  how,  when  the 
Court  left,  a  small  company  of  the  more  recklesu 
young  courtiers  had  persuaded  him  it  would  be 
cowardly  to  go ;  and  they  had  established  them- 
selves in  this  house,  belonging  to  a  kinsman  of  one 
of  them,  and  held  wild  revelries  there.  How  he 
had  half  intended,  when  he  had  heard  we  remained 
in  the  City,  to  break  witli  these  dissolute  associ- 
ates, and  find  us  out ;  and  had  once  or  twice 
crept  into  churches  by  himself  and  heard  sermons, 
but  had  delayed  and  hesitated  from  week  to  week ; 
until  at  last,  towards  the  end  of  August,  a  singing- 
girl,  one  of  their  company,  had  been  smitten  with 
the  plague.  Then  the  door  had  been  closed  and 
marked,  and  all  the  revellers  had  escaped  through 
windows,  over  the  leads  of  other  houses,  or  over 
the  palings  of  gardens  to  the  river,  and  bo  into  the 
country.  But  he  could  not  shut  his  heart  to  the 
dying  shrieks  of  that  poor  lost  girl,  and  abandon 
her  to  die  alone. 

"  '  I  meant  to  wait  till  she  was  dead,'  he  said, 
'and  leave  the  men  of  the  dead-cart  to  find  her  in 
the  empty  house  and  bury  her,  and  then  to  follow 
the  rest.  I  had  enough  on  my  conscience  without 
being  followed  through  life  with  those  dying  cries. 
But  befoie  she  died  I  began  to  feel  ill  myself.  I 
tried  to  keep  up  my  spirits  with  wine;  but  that 
was  of  no  use.  And  then  I  found  half  a  dozen 
leaves  of  an  old  Prayer-book — the    sentences  and 


OX  BOTE  SIDES   ft*'   THE  SE 1. 


457 


die  Confession,  and  the  Absolution,  and  one  or  two 
of  the  Gospels.  I  entreated  her  to  let  me  read  to 
her,  but  she  would  not  listen,  but  kept  deliriously 
singing,  mixing  up  light  songs,  bad  enough  at 
any  time  from  a  woman's  lips,  with  strains  of 
music  from  the  Royal  Chapel,  and  melodies  of  in- 
nocent old  Christmas  village  carols,  in  a  way  hor- 
rible to  hear.  And  then  she  died,  and  I  was  too 
ill  to  leave.  And  I  crept  into  this  bed.  That  waa 
yesterday.  And  at  night-fall  there  was  a  rattling 
at  the  door,  and  heavy  steps  np-stairs,  and  heavier 
down  again.  So  I  knew  they  would  bury  her. 
But  I  lay  still  under  the  coverlet;  for  a  horrid 
dread  came  over  me  that  they  might  find  me,  carry 
me  down,  and  bury  me  with  her,  to  save  time. 
There  had  been  horrible  jests  among  us  of  such 
things  happening.  But  the  door  shut,  echoing 
through  the  empty  house  like  thunder. 

"  '  And  I  knew  I  was  left  alone  to  die.  And  then 
another  horrible  feeling  came  over  me ;  that  it 
would  be  better  if  they  had  found  me,  and  taken 
me  out  to  die  quietly  among  the  dead,  without 
thinking  any  more  about  it,  than  leave  me  here 
lingering  alone  to  think  of  it:  to  look  at  death 
steadily,  alone,  no  one  knows  how  long;  with 
nothing  but  dying  between  me  and  it. 

"  'And  to  pass  the  time  and  break  the  silence  I 
took  up  the  old  Prayer-book  and  read  aloud, — 

utWken    the   ivicked  man   turneth    away    from   hit 

wickedness.     But  I  thought,  I  can  never  turn  away 

from  my  wickedness.     I  can  only  turn  round  and 

round  in  it  for  ever  ard  ever      So  I  stopped,  untU 

39 


fc8  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

the  silence  was  worse  to  bear  than  the  words ;  an£ 
then  I  read  on  again.  But  my  own  voice  soundec 
to  ine  like  a  parody.  Dreadful  jesting  voices  seemed 
reading  the  sacred  words  after  me,  until  I  came  tc 
the  Confession. 

'"Then  the  jesting  voices  vanished.  And,  iu 
stead,  came  my  mother's  voice,  ai.d  my  own,  as  a 
boy,  saying  it  after  her,  "  We  have  gone  astray  like 
lost  sheep."  I  might  have  said  it  once,  I  knew,  and 
have  come  back  ;  now  I  should  have  to  go  on  saying 
it  for  ever,  with  her  voice  echoing  it  as  if  from 
heaven,  and  never  come  hack.  If  I  could  hear  the 
voice  of  some  one  good  reading  this  Confession  and 
the  Gospels,  I  thought  they  might  seem  true,  even 
for  me,  yet,  but  never  in  my  own. 

'"So  I  flung  the  book  from  me,  and  lay  stn 
until  I  heard  a  man's  feet  coming  softly  up  the 
staircase;  and  I  thought  it  was  a  thief  come  to 
pillage,  and  then  perhaps  to  murder  me.  And  the 
insane  desire  of  life  mastered  me  again;  and  I 
covered  my  face  again  and  hushed  my  breath,  until 
I  heard  Roger's  voice  beside  me  saying,  "  There  in 
tw  one  living  here."  And  then  I  looked  up.  And 
all  night  he  has  been  speaking  to  me,  Lettice — 
nursing  me  as  my  mother  might,  and  now  and  theu 
reading  out  of  the  Gospels  and  the  Confession. 
And  if  the  merciful  words  would  seem  true  to  me 
in  any  voice  sister,  they  would  in  his.  If  I  had 
only  gone  to  you  all  before !  But  it  is  too  late,, 
Is  it  not  too  late?  Is  not  my  life  wasted,  lost- 
lost  for  ever  ?' 

"  He  gazed  into  my  eyes  with  that  wistful,  thirst 


OH  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  453 

ing  look  of  the  souls  who  are  departing.  I  knew 
nothing  but  truth  would  avail.  So  I  said  as  quietly 
as  I  could, — 

"  '  Your  life — this  life,  Walter — I  am  afraid  it  is 
lost — lost  for  ever.  Your  life  ;  hut  not  you,  Wal- 
ter ;  not  you.'' 

lie  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  mine,  and  said, — 

"  And  there  is  no  second,  Lettice.  God  Himself 
cannot  give  us  hack  the  lost  life  asrain.' 

"  Then  all  that  he  might  have  heen,  all  my  mother 
hoped  he  might  he,  rushed  over  my  heart,  and  I 
could  not  say  any  more.  I  could  only  kneel  down 
by  his  bedside  and  take  his  hand  and  sob  out, — 

"  '  O  Father,  Thou  knowest  all  he  might  have 
been,  all  Thou  wouldest  have  had  him  be.  And 
Thou  seest  the  ruin  they  have  made  of  him.  Have 
pity,  have  pity,  and  forgive.' 

"  He  laid  his  hand  on  mine. 

"  '  Hush,  Lettice,  hush  !'  he  said ;  '  not  they — L 
I  have  ruined  myself.  No  one  could  have  ruined 
me  but  myself.     The  sin  is  mine.' 

"  Then  I  rose.  For  I  felt  as  if  my  prayer  was 
answered.  I  felt  as  if,  weak,  trembling  woman 
that  I  was,  a  priestly  voice  was  in  my  eai'-s  pro 
nouncing  absolution,  ready  to  breathe  the  gospel 
of  forgiveness  through  my  lips.  For  it  seemed  to 
me  these  were  the  first  words  of  real  repenting  I 
had  ever  heard  Walter  utter.  I  had  heard  him 
again  and  agair  speak  of  himself  or  his  life  with  a 
passionate  loathing.  But  that  was  not  repenting: 
Too  often  if  any  one  admitted  the  justice  of  such 
self  accusations,  he  would  turn  them  into  self-ex 


46o  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

cusir.g  and  accusings  of  others.  But  now,  it 
seemed  to  me,  he  was  indeed  coming  to  himself, 
coming  home  ;  and  I  said,— 

"  '  Walter,  you  could  not  turn  from  the  cries  oi 
that  poor  dying  creature.  Will  you  set  your  pity 
above  God's  ?' 

"  '  I  had  none  but  myself  to  think  of,'  he  said. 

It  mattered  nothing  to  any  one  whether  I  did 

right  or  wrong  about  it.     He  is  King  and  Judge, 

and  has  the  whole  world  to  tbiuk  of  in  forgiving 

any  one.' 

"  '  Our  Lord  did  not  say  so,'  I  said.  When  the 
lost  son  arose  to  come  home  to  be  forgiven,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  father  had  nothing  to  do  with  any 
one  in  the  world  but  with  him.  He  did  not  think 
of  what  the  servants  would  say,  or  the  elder  brother, 
or  how  any  one  else  might  be  tempted  by  the  for- 
giveness to  wander.  He  was  watching  the  wan- 
derer! Oh,  Walter,  He  was  the  first  to  see  him 
turn — the  first !  He  was  the  first  to  see  you.  I 
know  it  by  the  parable ;  I  know  it  because,  after 
all — after  all,  Walter — He  has  let  you  die  at  your 
post.  Think  of  the  mercy  of  that !  You  might 
have  died  helping  to  ruin  some  one.  You  die  try- 
ing to  help.  Think  of  the  mercy  of  being  suffered 
to  do  that !' 

"  A  softer  light  came  into  his  eyes,  and  after  a 
minute  he  said, — 

"  '  I  cannot  doubt  His  pity ;  no,  I  dare  not.  What 
I  doubt  is  myself.  How  can  you  know,  Lettice,  how 
can  I  know,  that  if  life  were  given  back  to  me  I 
iniofht  not  waste  it  all  asjain  ?' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SEA.  4.&1 

•  Then  turning  that  intense  searching  gaze  from 
me  to  Roger,  he  went  on, — 

" '  How  can  I  know  whether  I  am  clinging  to 
Him,  as  a  dying  man  clings  to  anything,  or  indeed 
as  the  repenting  son  to  the  Father  ?  How  can  you 
know  or  I  ?' 

"  Roger  bent  low  over  him  and  said, — 

"  '  Neither  you  nor  I  can  know.  One  only  knows. 
He  only  can  forgive.  He  knew,  on  the  cross,  when 
He  was  dying  for  the  world,  and  the  thief  beside 
Him  was  dying  for  his  own  crimes,  and  dying  Ho 
forgave  the  dying.  He  knows  now.  He  is  as  near 
as  then,  and  not  dying ;  living  for  evermore;  al- 
mighty to  save.  But  even  if  you  are  clinging  to 
Him,  as  a  drowning  man  to  a  rock,  or  to  an  out- 
stretched hand,  in  mere  terror  of  the  waves,  is  He 
one  likely  to  wrench  His  hand  even  from  such  a 
poor,  desperate,  selfish  grasp  as  that  ?  Did  He  on 
the  Sea  of  Galilee  ?' 

"  Walter  drank  in  all  Roger  said,  but  made  no 
reply. 

"  Roger's  next  words  fell  solemn  as  a  summons 
from  another  world. 

"  '  What  dc  you  want  Him  to  save  you  from  ?' 

"  Walter's  answer  was  a  cry  of  agony. 

"  '  From  myself! — from  myself!' 

"  Roger's  voice  was  firm  no  longer,  but  low  and 
broken  as  Walter's  own,  as  he  replied, — 

"  That  lit  died  to  do;  that  He  lives  to  do. 
That  He  can  never  refuse  to  do  for  any  that  ask 
Him,  for  ever  and  for  ever.' 

"Then,  after  a  few  moments,  Roger  said, — 
39* 


f62  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

" '  If  He  sees  no  other  way  to  save  ycu  but  that 
you  should  lose  your  life,  that  you  should  not  b6 
trusted  with  it  again,  could  you  be  content  ?' 

'"How  can  I  be  content?'  Walter  answered. 
1  Think  what  my  life  might  have  been.  It  might 
have  been  like  yours !  And  I  have  no  second.  I 
would  not  complain.  It  is  no  wondei  I  cannot 
be  trusted.  I  cannot  trust  myself.  But  you  can 
never  know  how  bitter  it  is  to  begin  to  see  what 
life  might  have  been  when  it  is  all  over,  and  when 
you  begin  to  see  how  well  He  you  have  grieved 
was  worth  serving.' 

"  He  lingered  some  days.  And  then  the  lost  life 
was  over. 

"  The  life  those  we  had  served  not  disloyally  had 
done  their  utmost  to  ruin. 

"The  spirit  had  departed,  which  He  we  have 
served  so  unworthily  even  to  the  uttermost  can 
save. 

"  It  was  beyond  comparison  the  bitterest  sacrifice 
we  had  ever  made. 

"  Yet  this  sacrifice  England  is  now  making  by 
hecatombs  on  the  same  foul  altar. 

"  A  sacrifice  not  of  life  ennobled,  and  made  infi- 
nitely worthier  in  laying  it  down,  but  of  honour,  of 
virtue,  of  all  that  makes  men  men.  Of  souls  de- 
graded in  the  sacrifice  to  the  level  of  that  to  which 
they  are  sacrificed.  A  sacrifice  to  devils,  and  not 
to  God. 


Chapter  XII. 


lettice's    diary 


jj  ROAD  OAK,  February,  1 606.— For  & 
brief  season  we  are  in  this  haven, 
driven  into  rest  by  many  storms. 
The  Plague  has  left  London.  The 
Court  has  returned  to  it  unchanged,  to  pursue  its 
revelries.  The  ejected  ministers  who  preached  to 
the  dying  city  are  once  more  silenced  and  driven 
from  their  pulpits,  and  not  only  driven  from  their 
pulpits  but  from  the  city,  by  the  Five  Mile  Act, 
which  prohibits  any  ejected  minister,  on  severe  pen- 
alties, from  approaching  within  five  miles  of  the 
church  where  he  was  wont  to  preach. 

"  Roger  deemed  his  work  in  London  for  the  pres- 
ent done. 

"When  we  left,  the  streets  were  fragrant  with 
the  smoke  of  sweet  woods,  burned  in  the  houses, 
and  curling  through  the  open  windows  day  and 
night.  The  air  was  laden  with  strange  Oriental 
odours  of  incense,  of  aromatic  gums  and  perfumes, 
floating  the  spirit  on  their  dream-like  fragrance  (as 
perfumes  only  can),  within  the  spells  <.f  Enchanted 
ground. 

'*  Yet  the  change  is  pleasant,  to  tin*  \yholcsorne 

'AW 


4.64         oy  both  s:bes  of  the  sea. 

country  air,  fresh  with  the  smell  of  the  new-plougheq 
earth,  of  the  young  mosses  and  grasses  shooting  out 
everywhere  bright  tiny  spikes  or  stars  of  jewel-like 
green,  of  the  breath  of  cows,  of  gummy  swelling 
leaf-buds,  and  fir-stems  warmed  into  pungent  fra- 
grance by  the  sun,  of  early  peeping  snow-drops  and 
rare  violets,  of  sedges  moistened  by  the  prattling 
brooks,  of  free  winds  coming  and  going  we  know 
not  whence  or  whither — from  the  mountains,  from 
the  sea,  or  from  the  forests  of  the  American  wilder- 
ness. It  is  invigorating  to  body  and  soul  to  change 
those  costly  foreign  manufactured  perfumes  for  all 
these  countless,  changing,  blending,  breathing  fra- 
grances, which  make  what  I  suppose  is  meant  by 
'the  smell  of  a  field  which  the  Lord  hath  blessed.' 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  relief  to  be  here,  after  what  we 
have  gone  through  ;  free  to  go  where  we  will,  living 
with  open  doors,  neighbours  freely  coming  and  go- 
ing, guests,  unsuspected,  dropping  in  at  the  hospi- 
table door  from  the  highway. 

"  It  is  not  so  much  like  coming  in  a  ship  out  of 
the  storm  into  the  haven,  as  like  being  quietly  laid 
on  a  friendly  sunny  shore,  after  buffeting  with  pant- 
ing chest  and  weary  arras  through  the  waves  which 
have  made  the  ship  a  wreck. 

"  Something  of  this  calm,  indeed,  began  to  come 
bven  before  we  left  London. 

"  It  is  a  thing  never  to  forget,  the  change  that 
came  over  people's  countenances  on  the  first  morn- 
ing late  in  September,  when  the  number  of  the  dead 
was  in  the  week  declared  to  have  diminished  instead 
of  increasing ;  the  tears   that  those  first  gleams  of 


OF  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  46j 

hope  brought  to  eyes  long  dry  in  despair ;  the  re- 
awaking  of  neighbourly  sympathy,  as  each  house 
ceased  to  be  either  a  refuge  against  infection,  or  a 
pest-house  from  which  it  issued ;  windows  opened 
fearlessly,  once  more,  to  hear  good  news.  The  re- 
serve which,  like  a  fortress,  rampart  with  rampart, 
guards  the  deepest  feelings  of  our  people,  broken 
down  by  the  common  deliverance  ;  strangers  grasp- 
ing each  others'  hands  in  the  streets,  merely  for  the 
joy  of  telling  the  good  news,  weeping  aloud  for 
gladness,  or  uttering  the  brief  fervent  thanksgiving 
— (,Tis  all  wonderful ;  ''lis  all  a  dream.''  Blessed  be 
God,  ''tis  all  His  own  doing.  Human  help  and  skill 
were  at  an  end.     Let  us  give  thanks  to  Him.'' 

"This  melting  together  of  men's  hearts  in  the 
rapture  of  a  common  deliverance,  struck  me  more 
than  all.  It  made  me  think  how  the  best  balsam  to 
heal  the  wounds  of  Christendom  would  be  for  Chris- 
tianity to  be  once  more  understood  as  the  Gospel 
of  Great  Joy  which  it  assuredly  is.  There  would 
be  little  room  for  controversy,  I  thought,  and  none 
for  isolation  and  exclusion,  if  every  heart  could  only 
be  penet  rated  with  the  joy  of  the  forgiven  Prodigal, 
and  of  the  Angels'  Christmas  hvinn. 

"Some  people  in  their  eagerness  to  purify  their 
houses  burned  them  down.  Wild  dospair  was  suc- 
ceeded on  every  side  by  hopes  as  wild.  Those  who 
had  suspected  every  one,  and  crept  along  the  streets, 
fearing  to  touch  each  other's  garments,  grew  so  bold 
(hat  they  no  longer  feared  even  the  poor  ghastly 
scarce-recovered  victims  of  the  Plague,  who  began 
to  limp  about  the  streets  with  the  bandages  af  th« 


466  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

dreaded  sores  and  swellings  still  around  their  headi 
and  limbs.     . 

"If  even  the  reckless  Court  itself  had  lived  th  rough, 
that  peril  and  that  rescue,  I  think  it  would  never 
lave  affronted  Heaven  and  this  city  of  mourners 
again  with  its  profligate  revelries.  The  City,  in- 
deed, was  well  fumigated  from  infection  with  per- 
fumes, and  with  brimstone,  to  make  it  a  safe  dwell- 
ing for  the  Court.  But  what  incense,  what  fires, 
can  purify  England  from  the  infection  of  the  Court 
itself? 

"  We  should  have  gone  to  Netherby,  but  that 
is  scarce  a  safe  home  just  now  for  Roger.  A  vexa- 
tious suit  has  been  instituted  against  him,  on  the 
ground  of  his  aiding  or  abetting  in  some  '  disloyal' 
attempt  of  which  he  knew  nothing.  But  we  know 
it  is  his  work  during  the  Commonwealth  that  is  the 
true  ground  of  prosecution.  Sir  Launcelot  Trevor 
will  never  pardon  Roger's  detecting  him  in  one  of 
the  plots  for  assassinating  Cromwell.  It  is  not  the 
hard  laws  themselves,  severe  as  their  restrictions 
and  penalties  are,  that  cause  the  most  suffering.  It 
is  the  power  hey  give  to  bad  men  to  annoy  the 
good. 

"  Already  much  of  the  Drayton  property  has  been 
sacrificed  through  vexatious  exactions.  But  now  it 
is  more  than  property  that  is  threatened.  And  so 
this  pleasant  home  of  Broad  Oak,  which  is  a  house 
of  mercy  to  so  many,  has  now  become  a  refuge  for 
us.  We  are,  in  fact,  here  as  in  a  hiding-place,  untU 
this  tyranny  be  overpast,  or  we  can  find  some  other 
refuge 


OK  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA.  4.67 

u  Our  host,  Mr.  Philip  Henry's  courtly  deference 
of  manners,  his  listen,  ng  to  every  one  as  if  he  had 
something  to  learn  from  each,  has  more  charm  for 
ine  than  I  like  to  confess  to  myself.  It  recalls  the 
stately  courtesy  of  my  brother  Harry  and  of  the 
Cavaliers  who  were  his  contemporaries. 

"  The  Puritan  manners  are  severer  and  less  chiv- 
alrous than  those  of  our  old  Cavaliers,  though  with 
more  of  true  knightly  honour  to  women  in  them 
than  the  courtiers  of  this  New  Court  are  capable  of 
comprehending. 

"  We  read  together  often,  Roger  and  I,  these  old 
records  of  the  early  settlers  in  the  American  wilder- 
nesses. We  are  beginning  now  to  glean  more  par- 
ticular tidings  concerning  the  various  village  com- 
munities into  which  the  settlers  have  now  organized 
themselves.  For  more  and  more  we  begin  to  speak 
of  a  'New  Netherby'  rising  beside  some  inland 
mere  or  pleasant  creek  of  the  forest  in  New  England 

"  '  Not  that  I  despair  for  a  moment  of  England. 
Roger  says.  'But  we  have  but  one  life,  and  its 
years  are  few  and  precious;  and  if  the  good  fight 
is  going  on  victoiiously  elsewhere,  it  seems  scarce 
a  man's  place  to  stay  where  the  best  he  can  do  la 
to  keep  quiet  and  hide  for  his  life.' 

"February)  1G6G,  Broad  Oak. — There  is  a  serenity 
and  sunshine  about  this  house  which  makes  it  like 
an  island  of  fair  weather  in  the  midst  of  the  tur- 
bulent world.  Continually  it  recalls  to  me  Port 
RoyaL  And  even  more  by  resemblance  than  by 
contrast. 

"It  seems  to  me  as  fully  as  Port  Royal  a  temple 


+68  OX  BOTH  SIXES   OF  THE  SEA. 

or  house  of  God.  (In  one  sense  I,  as  a  Protestant, 
should  believe  more,  since  the  church,  not  the  con- 
vent, is  God's  sacred  Order.)  Every  morning  and 
evening  all  the  inmates  and  family  assemble  for 
prayer  and  reading  of  the  Bible.  '  As  the  priests  in  the 
tabernacle,'  Mr.  Henry  says,  '  used  daily  to  burn  the 
incense,  and  to  light  the  lamps.''  All  pray  kneeling ; 
for  Mr.  Henry  '  has  high  thoughts  of  the  body  as 
God's  workmanship,  and  desires  that  it  should 
share  in  the  homage  offered  to  Him.' 

"  Mr.  Henry  never  makes  this  service  long,  so  as 
to  be  a  weariness ;  he  calls  it  the  '  hem  to  keep  the 
rest  of  the  day  from  ravelling.'  In  the  evening  he 
gathers  his  household,  servants,  workmen,  day  la- 
bourers, and  sojourners,  early,  that  the  youngest, 
or  those  who  have  done  a  good  day's  work,  may 
not  be  sleepy.  '  Better  one  absent  than  all  sleepy,' 
he  says. 

"  He  explains  the  Bible  as  he  reads  it,  not  merely 
'  mincing  it  small,  but  by  easy  unforced  distribution.'' 
Above  all,  he  seeks  to  lift  up  before  the  heart  '  Christ, 
the  Treasure  in  the  field  of  the  Bible.''  'Every  word 
of  God  is  good,'  he  says,  '  but  especially  God  the 
Word.'  He  closes  with  a  psalm  ;  sometimes  many 
verses,  but  sur.g  quickly,  every  one  having  a  book, 
so  tha,  there  is  no  interruption  to  the  singing. 

Afterward*  his  two  little  boys  kneel  with  folded 
hands  before  their  father  and  mother,  and  ask  the 
blessing,  while  he  pronounces  the  benediction  ovei 
them,  saying,  'The  Lord  bless  thee.'     On  Thursday 
be  catechizes  the  servants  on  some  simple  subject. 

u  On  Sunday,  '  the  pearl  of  the  week,  the  queen 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF   Ti.  E   SEA.  469 

of  days,'  the  perpetual  Easter-day  on  which  we 
6ing,  '  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed,'  the  whole  house 
Beems  so  full  of  tranquil  light,  all  sounds  and  signs 
of  needless  labour  banished,  all  the  sweet  sounds 
of  nature,  birds  and  bees  and  running  brooks,  heard 
with  a  new  music  in  the  hush  of  human  rest,  the 
men  and  maids  in  their  sober  holiday  attire,  that  it 
is  difficult  to  believe  there  is  not  an  audible,  visible 
increase  of  light  and  music  in  the  external  world, 
that  the  fields,  and  woods,  and  skies,  have  not  also 
donned  a  festive  attire,  that  the  sun  is  not  shining 
with  a  new  radiance,  like  the  ancient  Lamp  of  the 
sanctuary,  fresh  filled  and  trimmed  for  the  Sabbath. 
It  shines  on  the  heart  with  a  quiet  radiance,  like 
the  last  chapters  of  the  Gospels;  the  l-esurrection 
chapters.  The  household,  since  Mr.  Henry  has  been 
silenced,  attend  the  Church  service  in  the  little 
neighbouring  parish-church  of  Whitechurch,  always 
going  early,  before  the  service  begins.  The  walks 
through  the  field  to  and  from  the  church  are  a  sacred 
service  in  themselves,  by  virtue  of  Mr.  Henry's  dis- 
course. In  truth,  there  is  no  silencing  the  music 
of  such  a  piety  as  his,  unless  you  could  make  it 
cease  to  flow. 

"This  temple  also  has  its  shrines  and  inner  sanct- 
uary. Mrs.  Henry  pointed  out  to  me  the  little 
chamber  where  her  husband  prays  alone  ;  when  he 
changed  it  he  consecrated  the  new  one  with  a 
special  prayer.  I  remember  Roger's  father  used 
to  call  the  direction,  '  When  thou  enierest  into  thy 
closet  shut  thy  door,1  'the  one  unquestionably  divine 
rubric  of  the  New  Testament.'  And  it  Be<  ma  to 
40 


f70  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

me  beautiful  that  the  inmost  sanctuary  :<f  our 
houses,  as  of  our  hearts,  should  be  that  which  is 
consecrated  by  solitude  with  God. 

"  Then,  like  Port  Royal,  this  is  a  house  of  mercy. 
Standing  near  the  way-side,  it  is  seldom  that  the 
hospitable  board  has  none  but  inmates  round  it. 
And  Mr.  Henry's  simple,  fervent  thanksgiving  at 
the  table  must,  I  think,  go  along  with  the  traveller 
on  his  further  journey,  like  the  echo  of  a  hymn. 

"  The  order  of  the  convent,  moreover,  can  scarcely 
be  more  thorough  than  that  of  this  home,  save  that 
it  is  broken,  like  the  order  of  nature,  by  the  sweet 
irregularities  and  varieties  which  always  come  to 
stir  all  Divine  order  out  of  monotony.  The  Hand 
which  can  make  Life  the  mainspring  of  its  machin- 
ery may  dare  irregularities. 

"Port  Royal  was  especially  recalled  to  my  mind 
by  a  letter  I  received  last  November  from  Madame 
la  Mothe,  in  which  she  speaks  of  the  return  of  the 
nuns  to  Port  Royal  des  Champs.  Four  years  ago 
they  were  dispersed  into  imprisonment  in  various 
convents,  in  the  hope  that  the  courage  of  each 
alone  might  foil,  so  that  in  isolation,  moved  by  the 
most  plausible  persuasions  and  the  severest  threats, 
the  community  might  separately  sign  the  condem- 
nation of  Jansenism,  which  they  had  refused  to  sign 
together.  It  was  a  simple  question  of  fact.  They 
were  required  to  declare  that  the  five  condemned 
propositions  were  in  Jansenius'  books;  thus  assert- 
ing what  thev  believed  false  to  be  true.  But  out 
of  the  ninety-six  nuns  thus  dispersed  eighty-four 
returned  unshaken.     Madame  la  Mothe  writes: 


OX  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA  ^x 

"  '  Such  a  welcome  and  restoration  home  as  the 
holy  sisters  had  was  worth  sore  suffering  to  win, 
as  the  various  carriages  met,  bringing  the  Mother 
Angelique  and  her  scattered  daughters  once  more 
together.  The  church  hells  pealed  joyous  greet- 
ings, and  the  peasants  shouted  or  wept  their  wel- 
comes, flocking  by  the  roadside,  along  the  steep 
descent  into  the  valley,  in  holiday  dresses;  gray- 
haired  tottering  men,  little  toddling  children,  moth- 
ers and  babes  in  arms — not  a  creature  that  could 
stir  left  behind  to  miss  the  joy  of  welcoming  their 
benefactresses  back.  And  so  the  long  procession  of 
nuns,  in  their  white  robes,  with  scarlet  crosses,  dis- 
appeared under  the  great  Gothic  gates,  into  the 
sacred  enclosure.  '  It  was  a  sight  indescribably 
beautiful  to  the  eye,  but  who  can  say  what  it  was 
to  the  heart  ?' 

"  Martyrs  not  so  much  to  truth  as  to  truthfulness, 
they  would  not  recognize  the  distinction  between 
consenting  to  what  they  deemed  a  lie   and  tell- 


ing it. 


"  Should  not  their  enemies  concede  at  least  this 
merit  to  the  two  thousand  ejected  ministers  ?  They 
may  be  over  nice,  as  I  think  they  are,  in  some  of 
their  scruples.  But  why  cannot  people,  who  see  a 
noble  heroism  in  eighty  nuns  suffering  ejection  and 
dispersion  rather  than  declare  that  false  which  they 
believe  to  be  true — rather  than  bring  on  their  souls 
the  degradation  of  a  lie — see  something  of  the 
same  heroism  in  two  thousand  English  clergymen 
with  their  families  suffering  ejection,  calumny,  and 
peril  of  starvation  rather  than    solemnly    declare 


4,-72  ON   BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

they  believe  things  true  which  they  believe  fills*;} 
The  families  who  have  to  share  the  misery  wLethei 
they  will  or  no,  do  not  make  the  sacrifice  easier. 

"  Yet  many  a  tender-hearted  lady  of  our  acquaint- 
ance, of  the  old  Cavalier  stock,  whose  face  has  glow- 
ed with  interest  when  I  have  told  her  of  the  suffer- 
ings and  constancy  of  the  Mere  Angelique  and  her 
nuns,  and  who  has  rejoiced  with  me  when  I  read 
the  story  of  their  restoration,  can  see  nothing  but 
vulgar  perversity  and  obstinacy  in  the  conduct  of 
these  ejected  ministers. 

"  Why  cannot  these  also  be  honoured  as  martyrs, 
if  not  to  truth,  at  least  to  truthfulness? 

"  Can  it  be  that  the  white  dresses  and  red  crosses, 
and  the  grand  arched  entrance  gates  make  the  dif- 
ference ? 

"  Or  is  it  merely  that  the  one  took  place  in  France 
and  the  other  at  home  ? 

"  Building  the  sepulchres  of  the  prophets  is  such 
easy  and  graceful  feminine  work  !  As  easy  as  tapes- 
try work,  especially  when  the  sepulchres  are  reared 
in  the  imagination,  and  the  prophets  prophesied  to 
other  people's  forefathers. 

"  But  it  seems  as  if,  in  heaven,  not  the  slightest 
value  was  attached  to  those  elegant  little  erections. 

"The  one  thins  regarded  there  seems  to  be 
whether  we  help  and  honour  those  who  are  contend- 
in^  or  suffering  for  truth  and  right  now.  And  this 
is  not  always  so  easy. 

"For,  on  the  other  hand,  Aunt  Dorothy  was  not 
a  little  incensed  when  I  once  told  her  (intending  tc 
be  conciliatory)  that  1  thought  the  Nonconformist 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  ^73 

ministers  quite  as  much  to  be  honoured  as  the  Mere 
Angelique  and  her  nuns. 

"  'To  compare  Mr.  Baxter  and  two  thousand  of 
the  most  enlightened  ministers  in  England  to  a  set 
of  poor  benighted  papists  !'  said  she. 

"And  she  was  only  to  be  mollified  by  the  con 
sideration  of  the   deficiency  in  my  own  religious 
training. 

"  Perhaps  for  us  women  the  safest  course  is  to 
render  as  wide  a  succour  as  we  can  to  all  who  suffer. 
Because  then  if  we  make  any  mistakes  as  to  truth, 
in  the  great  account  they  may  be  counterbalanced 
by  the  entries  on  the  side  of  love ;  which,  on  the 
whole,  seems  to  overrule  the  final  judgment. 

"March,  1666. — "We  are  to  leave  this  friendly  holy 
roof  for  another  shelter. 

"  Many  a  sharp-cut  diamond  of  Mr.  Henry's  good 
sayings  I  shall  carry  away  with  me. 

"  '  Repentance  is  not  a  sudden  land-food,  but  the  flow- 
ing of  a  perennial  spring  ;  an  abiding  habit.'' 

"  '  Peace  is  joy  in  the  bloom  ;  joy  is  peace  in  the  fruit.'' 

"  But  more  than  all  such  sayings,  I  bear  away 
with  me  the  memory  of  a  sanctity  as  fresh  and  fra- 
grant as  any  I  ever  hope  to  see,  fragrant  not  as  with 
the  odours  of  manufactured  perfumes,  but  with  the 
countless  fragrances  of  a  field  which  the  LoH  has 
blessed. 

"An  Endurance  of  affliction  made  all  the  lovelier 
by  the  capacity  for  the  happiness  it  foregoes, — by 
the  belief  that  every  creature  of  God  is  good  and  to 
be  enjoyed  with  thanksgiving  which  prevents  in 
being  stiffened  into  austerity  ;  -j.  submissive  Loyalty 

10* 


474  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE   SEA. 

ennobled  by  the  higher  loyalty  which  prevents  it4 
becomiug  servile ;  an  open-handed  charity  sustained 
by  busy-banded  industry,  by  the  thrift  which  leenis 
waste  a  sin,  and  the  justice  which  deems  debt  a  deg- 
radation ;  a  Devotion  whose  chief  delight  is  to  soar 
and  sing,  and  which  sings  never  the  less  when  it 
stoops  to  serve ;  a  Religion  as  free  from  fanaticism, 
worldliness,  or  austerity  as  any  the  world  can  see. 

"A  piety  which  would  have  been  my  mother's 
element;  worthy  it  seems  to  me  of  the  sober  joyful 
liturgy  she  loved  so  dearly,  yet  to  which  Mr.  Henry 
cannot  entirely  conform.  Yes ;  it  seems  to  me  a 
piety  more  unlike  that  of  the  Puritans  of  our  early 
days  than  unlike  that  of  George  Herbert  or  of  Port 
Royal.  A  lovely,  patient,  quiet,  meek-eyed  piety  ! 
It  recalls  to  me  the  group  of  St.  Paul's  gentle  graces, 
'  love,  joy,  peace,'  and  the  rest,  which  I  used  to  think 
pictured  my  mother's  religion,  far  more  than  St. 
Peter's  belligerent  virtues,  godliness,  faith,  courage, 
which  seemed  to  me  to  stand  forth  in  sword  and 
breastplate  like  the  religion  of  Roger  and  the  Iron- 
sides. 

"  '  If  tlie  old  Cavaliers,  alas,  are  gone,'  I  said  to 
Roger  to-day,  '  it  seems  to  me  the  old  Puritans  are 
gone  as  well.  Mr.  Philip  Henry  is  far  less  like  you 
Ironsides  than  like  my  mother.  This  is  a  piety,  as 
I  deem,  which  would  have  suffered  in  prisons  and 
pillories  to  any  extent,  but  would  scarcely  have 
lifted  its  voice  in  the  Parliament  with  Mr.  Hampden 
and  Mr.  Pym,  and  would  certainly  not  have  raised 
the  standard  at  Edgehill  or  Worcester.  Where  ar« 
>Vie  old  Puritans  gone?' 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  475 

"  *  Where  v  e  may  follow  them,  sweet  heart.'  said 
he;  'to  fight  the  wolves  and  conquer  the  wilder- 
nesses of  the  West.' 

"  '  Then,  said  I,  '  are  the  wrestling  manlike  Chris- 
tian virtues  to  migrate  to  New  England  to  subdue 
the  New  World ;  whilst  the  feminine  Christian 
graces  are  to  stay  at  home  to  endure  the  pillory  and 
the  prison?  That  were  a  strange  division.  Me- 
seems,  what  with  prohibitions  to  speak,  and  impris- 
onment, and  the  banishment  of  the  fiohtinsr  men, 
this  patient,  passive  nonconformity  can  never 
spread.  Rather,  perhaps,  in  a  generation  or  two  it 
will  die  out.' 

"  'Scarcely,  I  think,'  he  Raid.  'The  old  country 
id  patient  and  dumb,  and  sometimes  takes  a  long 
sleep  bnt  I  believe  she  will  wake  one  day,  and  break 
the  npts  they  have  entangled  her  in,  and  scatter 
those  who  twisted  them,  simply  by  rising  and  shak- 
ing herself.  Only  her  sleep  may  be  too  long  for  us 
to  wait  to  the  end  of  it.' 

"'But  who  is  to  wake  her?' I  said.  'A  piety 
this  of  Mr.  Henry's,  like  that  of  Mr.  Herbert,  beau- 
tiful and  pure  enough  to  convert  the  world,  if  some 
louder  voice  could  only  rouse  the  world  to  look  at  it. 
But  whence  is  this  voice  to  come?  For  it  seems 
to  me  our  liturgy,  though  the  purest  music  of  de- 
votion that  can  rise  to  heaven  if  once  people  are 
awake  to  hear  it  and  to  sing  it,  has  scarcely  the 
kind  of  fiery  force  in  it  to  arouse  the  slumbering 
world.  And  if  the  Puritan  religion  becomes  alike 
meek  and  soft-spoken,  whence  is  this-  enkindling  fire 
to  come?'  • 


476  ON  BOTH   SIDES  OF   THE  SEA. 

"  You  might  as  well  have  asked  our  ancesto* 
Cassibelawn  where  the  fire  was  to  come  from  when 
the.  forests  were  cut  down,'  he  said.  '  While  the 
forests  give  fuel  enough,  who  can  foresee  the  coal- 
pits? 

"  '  Perhaps,'  he  added  after  a  pause,  as  in  a  muse, 
'  when  the  spring  comes  and  the  ice  melts  and  the 
music  of  the  living  waters  breaks  on  England  again, 
as  it  must  and  will,  the  new  streams  will  find  new 
channels.' 

"  Our  discourse  was  broken  at  this  point  by  the 
arrival  of  two  horsemen  who  dismounted  at  the 
door.  The  hospitable  board  was  spread  for  the 
midday  meal,  and  as  we  went  down  to  take  our 
places  at  it,  Mr.  Henry  introduced  us  to  these  new 
guests  as  friends  of  his. 

"  They  were  Dr.  Annesly  and  Dr.  Wesley,*  two 
of  the  nonconformist  ministers." 

olive's  recollections. 

Troubles  came,  as  troubles  are  wont  to  come,  in 
troops,  sweeping  down  on  us  thick  and  fast  in  the 
year  which  followed  the  plague,  1666. 

Through  the  whole  year  Roger  was  in  conceal- 
ment with  Lettice  and  their  boy.  Lands  and 
houses  are  no  safeguards  in  a  persecution  where  so 
much  lies  at  the  mercy  of  informers.  And  Roger — 
and  Lettice  also — had  an  implacable  enemy  in  Sir 
Launcelot  Trevor,  the  profligacy  of  whose  early 
rears  had,  at  its  second  fermentation,  soured  into 

*  Maternal  and  paternal  grandfather  of  the  Wesley  a, 


OV  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  4.77 

malignity  against  those  who  had  reproved  of 
thwarted  him  It  was  Sir  Launcelot,  indeed,  who 
hunted  us  hither.  In  his  youth  he  had  made  some 
careless  studies  in  the  law,  and  now  he  was  ap- 
posed one  of  the  judges.  Vexations  which  ren- 
der life  impossible  for  all  the  best  ends  of  living 
are  terribly  easy  to  inflict  when  bad  laws  are  exe- 
cuted by  worse  men.  And  it  was  this  which  made 
the  misery  of  those  times.  The  laws  were  indeed 
(as  Ave  believe)  harsh  and  unjust ;  but  it  was  the 
authorities  who  made  them  and  the  judges  who 
administered  them,  it  was  the  spirit  in  which  the 
letter  was  carried  out  that  made  them  (at  last)  un- 
supportable. 

About  the  spring  of  this  year  the  pressure  of  the 
times  fell  hard  on  cousin  Placidia. 

Her  son  Isaac  was  arrested  for  attending  a  for- 
bidden  meeting  near  Bedford,  and  was  thrown  into 
the  old  jail  on  Bedford  Bridge,  where  John  Bunyan 
(though  loyal  as  Mr.  Baxter),  had  already  been 
incarcerated  for  six  years. 

Thenee,  Isaac  wrote  as  if  imprisonment  in  such 
company  were  not  to  be  imprisoned  but  emparadised. 
"  Such  heavenly  discourse  as  John  Bunyan  makes 
here,"  said  he,  "would  make  a  dungeon  a  palace." 
He  gave  hints  also  of  a  wonderful  story,  or  alle- 
gory, which  the  tinker  was  penning  in  the  jail,  and 
which  (said  Isaac)  would  make  as  much  music  in 
the  world,  when  it  came  forth,  as  Mr.  Milton's 
poems.  We  smiled  at  the  lad's  enthusiasm,  for  it 
was  not  to  be  thought  that  a  poor  tinker,  however 
godly,  could  write  anything  beyond  edifying  sheets 


478  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

suited  to  paste  on  the  walls  of  poor  folks  like  ilia* 
self.  Indeed,  we  had  seen  some  verses  of  h's, 
which,  though  full  of  piety  and  patience,  were 
scarce  to  be  called  poetry. 

And  that  very  year  Mr.  Thomas  Ell  wood,  a 
Quaker  (and  a  friend  of  Annis  Nye's),  who  had 
once  been  reader  to  Mr.  Milton  in  his  blindness, 
brought  us  marvellous  accounts  of  a  manuscript 
Mr.  Milton  had  given  him  to  read  at  a  "  pretty  box  " 
Mr.  Ellwood  had  taken  for  him,  during  the  Plague, 
at  Giles  Chalfont.  It  contained  the  Epic  Poem 
called  "  Paradise  Lost."  Thomas  Ellwood  said  to 
him,  "  Thou  hast  said  much  here  of  Paradise  lost, 
but  what  hast  thou  to  say  of  Paradise  found?" 
Some  time  afterwards,  Mr.  Milton  showed  him  an- 
other poem  called  Paradise  Regained,  saying,  in  a 
pleasant  tone,  "  This  is  owing  to  you  ;  for  you  put 
it  into  my  head  by  the  question  you  put  to  me  at 
Chalfont,  which  before  I  had  not  thought  of." 

So  that,  seeing,  besides  all  he  had  already  done 
to  the  marvel  of  Europe,  Mr.  Milton  had  these  won- 
derful epics  in  store,  it  naturally  amused  us  not  a 
little  that  Isaac  should  compare  this  good  tinker 
with  him.  Nevertheless,  we  honoured  the  lad's 
heartiness,  and  rejoiced  that  in  his  doleful  condition 
he  had  such  pious  company  to  comfort  him  withal. 

Not  so,  however,  his  mother.  Her  distress  knew 
no  bounds.  This  affliction  tore  her  heart  in  twain ; 
setting  what  was  highest  in  her  in  fierce  civil  war 
with  what  was  lowest.  For,  in  spite  of  all  hei 
protestations  of  poverty,  rumour  had  rather  mag' 
nified  than  diminished  th<>  w»vuut  of  cousin  Pla 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  47g 

cidia's  hoards.  The  more  she  sought  to  keep  them 
unknown,  the  more  magnificent  they  grew  in  the 
busy  imaginations  of  her  neighbours.  And  coffer 
after  coffer  of  her  painfully  hoarded  stores  had  to  be 
confessed  and  emptied  as  she  sought  to  bribe  one 
exacting  officer  after  another  to  release  her  son ; 
until,  the  more  she  gave,  the  more  they  believed 
she  could  be  tortured  into  giving,  the  more  the 
ingenuity  of  informers  and  the  greed  of  jailers 
increased,  and  the  more  distant  grew  the  prospects 
of  poor  Isaac's  liberation. 

My  heart  ached  for  the  torture  she  went  through 
as,  bit  by  bit,  she  had  to  offer  up  the  money  which 
was  dear  to  her  as  life,  for  the  child  who  was 
dearer. 

"  It  was  worse  than  the  boot  or  the  thumb-screw 
with  which  they  are  torturing  the  poor  Covenanters 
in  Scotland,"  I  said  one  day  to  Job  Foster,  when 
we  were  staying  at  Netherbv :  "  screwed  tighter 
and  tighter  till  it  crushes  the  bone." 

"  Never  heed,  Mistress  Olive,"  said  Job.  "  Thank 
the  Lord  it  isn't  in  your  hands  but  in  His,  who 
loves  Mistress  Nicbolls  a  sight  better  than  you.  It 
isn't  her  heart  that  screw  is  crushing,  it's  the  worm 
in  her  heart  which  is  eating  it  out." 

"Thou  art  somewhat  hard  on  Mistress  Nieholls,w 
gaid  Rachel,  "  to  my  mind ;  after  all,  she  had  saved 
it  all  for  the  lad."  ' 

"  Women's  hearts  are  tender,"  said  Job,  giving 
an  emphatic  hammer  to  the  spado  he  was  repairing, 
"  and  thine  tenderer  than  any.  But  there's  a  love 
tenderer  than    thine.      Glory   to   Ills   holy   name, 


+go  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

He  did  not  put  away  the  son  owing  cup  for  *L 
His  own  pains.  And  He  will  not  put  aside  th« 
healing  cup  for  all  our  crying.      In  His  warfare 

it  isn't  once  setting  us  on  Burford  church  roofs, 
nor  twice,  that  keeps  us  steady  to  the  Captain's 
lead." 

This  trouble  of  Isaac's  meantime  wrought  much 
on  Maidie,  who  had  always  repaid  Isaac's  devoted 
homage  loftily,  and  not  always  graciously,  since 
the  early  days  when  he  overwhelmed  her  with 
the  unwelcome  offering  of  his  best  hen.  Sharp- 
sighted  as  these  children  are  (flatter  ourselves  as 
we  may)  to  spy  out  our  failings,  and  intolerant  of 
them  as  youth  with  its  high  standards  will  be, 
Maidie  had  been  wont  to  hear  cousin  Placidia's 
moans  of  poverty  with  ill-disguised  incredulity, 
and  to  call  her  economies  by  very  unsparing  scrip- 
tural names.  But  now  Isaac's  imprisonment  seemed 
at  once  to  exalt  him  in  the  perverse  maiden's  im- 
agination from  a  boy  to  a  hero.  She  wrote  to  him ; 
and  what  was  more,  Dolly  treacherously  reported 
that  she  wept  nights  long  about  him ;  and  (which 
was  the  greatest  triumph  of  all),  she  began  to  love 
his  mother  for  his  sake.  "  It  was  plain,"  she  said, 
"how  unjust  she  had  been  to  cousin  Placidia;  it 
was  plain  thai  it  was  only  for  Isaac's  sake  she  hid 
pinched  herself,  and  sometimes  also  ether  folk. 
Otherwise,  would  she  be  ready  to  part  with  every- 
thing for  his  sake  now  ?  It  was  noble  for  a  mother 
to  deny  herself  for  her  son,"  pronounced  Maidie ; 
"  and  if  this  denying  extended  to  others  sometimes, 
it  must  be  excused.     It  was  but  the  exuberance  of 


ON  BOTH   SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  ,4.81 

a  virtue;  ami  she,  for  her  part,  was  ashamed  of 
having  ever  spoken  haidly  of  cousin  Placidia,  and 
would  never  do  so  again." 

So  a  close  bond  grew  up  between  these  two  ;  and 
it  became  clear  to  me  I  should  have  to  spare  a  por- 
tion of  my  daughter's  love  to  soften  with  its  free 
sunshine,  and  quicken  with  its  own  generous  youth, 
this  heart  that  had  grown  so  old  and  shrivelled  with 
self-imposed  cares. 

And  it  was  also  plain  what  would  come  of  this 
when  Isaac,  always  so  faithful  to  her,  came  out  of 
prison,  at  once  exalted  into  manhood  and  smitten 
into  knighthood  in  Maidie's  eyes — by  persecution, 
and  found  Maidie  already  ministering  to  his  mother 
as  a  daughter.  Indeed,  the  betrothal  was  already 
accomplished  in  all  its  essentials.  And  it  seemed  to 
me  that,  so  bewared  and  so  enriched,  cousin  Pla- 
cidia  would  have  at  last  no  alternative  bat  to  throw 
aside  the  self-deceiving  and  self-tormenting  which 
had  made  her  youth  old  age  and  her  wealth  poverty, 
and  in  her  old  age  and  destitution  for  the  first  time 
to  grow  rich  and  young. 

As  the  year  went  on,  more  and  more  our  thoughts 
turned  to  the  New  World  on  the  other  side  of  the 
sea.  Roger's  mind  had  been  turned  thither  ever 
eiuce  the  Lord  Protector's  death,  as  the  only  place 
where  in  his  lifetime  it  was  probable  he  Avould  be 
able  to  render  England  those  "  public  services  for 
which  a  man  is  born." 

Loyalty  he  believed  England  had  refused  to  the 
prince  God  sent  her,  and  was  Buffering  for  it.  Lib- 
41 


+g2  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

ert}-  was  a  word  which  would  scarcely  come  forth 
again  as  a  watchword  of  noble  warfare  with  the  men 
of  this  bew  ildered  and  subdued  generation. 

On  the  other  hand,  my  husband,  while  the  prisons 
were  fuller  than  ever  of  sufferers  for  conscience, 
found  it  more  difficult  than  ever  to  obtain  access  to 
them  or  to  give  them  succour. 

Cousin  Placidia,  on  her  part,  was  ready  for  any 
refuge  which  would  keep  Isaac  out  of  the  way  of 
John  Bunyan  and  the  informers.  Job  and  Rachel 
Forster  still  hesitated.  They  could  not  "get  light 
upon  it."  They  doubted  whether  it  would  not  be 
deserting  the  post  they  had  been  set  to  keep ;  and 
move  especially  whether  it  would  be  safe  to  take 
Anuis  Nye,  who  had  gone  to  live  with  them,  to  New 
England.  I  think  also  they  were  more  moved  by 
sympathy  with  Annis  Nye's  beliefs  than  they  quite 
knew  themselves.  Rachel  thought  the  Quakers  had 
been  set  to  give  a  wonderful  testimony  for  peace 
and  patience  in  an  age  when  there  was  too  much 
fio-hting; ;  and  for  silence  in  an  age  when  there  was 
too  much  talking.  And  Job  said,  "  We  have  done 
fighting  and  talking  enough  in  our  day,  in  my  belief, 
to  ls~st  some  time ;  and  now  the  Lord  seems  to  bo 
saymg  to  us,  '  Study  to  be  quiet  and  to  do  your  own 
business?  and, '  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together, 
there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.''  That's  about  where 
the  lessons  for  the  day  seem  to  me  to  be  just  now. 
And  I've  a  mind  we'd  better  be  in  no  hurry,  but  sit 
still  and  learn  them." 

Aunt  Dorothy  was  prepared  at  any  moment  to 
ihake  off  the  dust  frcm  her  feet  against  the  profli- 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  483 

gate  Court  which  encouraged  Sabbath -breakings 
theatres,  and  bear-baitings,  and  banished  five  miles 
from  its  suburbs  the  loyal  and  godly  ministers  who 
had  laboured  so  faithfully  to  bring  it  back  ;  and 
against  the  Infatuated  country  which  could  pay  ser 
vile  adulation  to  such  a  Court. 

She  was  also  a  little  troubled  at  Mr.  Baxter's 
marrying  so  young  a  wife,  and  winced  a  little  when 
Lettice  defended  him  and  declared  that  at  heart 
Aunt  Dorothy's  place,  after  all,  was  beside  the  holy 
maids  and  recluses  of  Port  Royal. 

Still  we  lingered.  It  was  not  so  easy  to  despair 
of  the  re-awaking  of  an  England  in  which  John  Mil- 
ton was  still  living  and  thinking,  and  John  Bunyau, 
and  John  Howe,  and  Dr.  Owen,  and  Richard  Bax- 
ter, and  through  which  thirty  thousand  of  Crom- 
well's soldiers  wure  still  scattered,  working  at  their 
farms  and  forces  throughout  the  land.  Nor  was  it 
easy  to  leave  such  an  England,  so  few  years  before 
a  Queen  of  Nations,  as  long  as  she  would  but  give 
us  a  little  space  to  work  for  her,  and  a  little  reason 
to  hope. 

But  slowly  the  necessities  which  pressed  us  from 
her  shores  gathered  closer  and  closer  around  us, 
until  we  could  linger  no  more. 

The  great  Fire  of  London  brought  ray  in  sband  to 
a  decision. 

Our  own  house  escaped;  but  many  houses  in  the 
city,  in  which  much  of  his  property  consisted,  were 
burnt.  And  the  misery  of  so  many  thousands, 
whom  our  losses  deprived  us  of  the  power  to  relieve, 


f84  0N  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE    SEA. 

made  us  at  last  resolve  to  make  the  voyage,  whil« 
we  had  the  means  yet  left  to  pay  the  ship-master 
and  purchase  such  goods  as  we  should  need  in  be- 
ginning life  again  in  the  wilderness. 

At  ten  o'clock  on  the  2nd  of  September,  ]666,  the 
flames  of  that  terrible  Fire  burst  forth.  By  mid- 
night they  raged.  In  three  days  the  whole  city  was 
a  heap  of  smoking  smouldering  ruins. 

To  us  who  lived  at  Westminster,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  fierce  eastern  wind  was  driving:  the  flames  to- 
wards  that  guilty  roof  at  Whitehall,  which  scarce  a 
righteous  man  in  the  nation  but  deemed  to  be  itself 
the  plague  spot  and  the  Gehenna  which  was  bring- 
ing desolation  by  plague  and  tire  on  the  wholo 
land. 

All  the  night  the  sky  was  fiery,  "  like  the  top  of 
a  burning  oven."  In  the  day  the  air  was  so  thick 
with  the  coiling  columns  of  smoke,  that  "  the  sun 
shone  through  it  with  a  colour  like  blood."  Those 
who  ventured  near  said  that  the  pavements  glowed 
a  fiery  red,  so  that  no  horse  or  man  could  tread  them, 
and  the  melting  lead  from  the  burning  churches  ran 
down  the  streets  in  a  stream.  Now  and  then  the 
dense  masses  of  smoke  were  broken  by  the  stones 
of  St.  Paul's  flying  like  grenadoes,  or  by  a  sudden 
burst  of  vivid  flame  making  the  smoke  visible  sven 
in  the  daylight,  as  some  of  the  coal  and  wood 
wharves  and  stores  of  oil  and  resin  along  the  river 
side  were  seized  by  the  fire.  And  the  steady  roar 
of  the  flames  was  only  broken  now  and  then  by  ex- 
plosions, as  vast  powder-stores  split  asunder,  or  by 
the  wailings  and  cries  of  the  ruined  peoph   running 


OX  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  485 

to  and  fro  in  helpless  consternation,  not  even  at- 
tempting to  save  their  goods. 

Still,  day  and  night,  the  east  wind,  so  steady  in 
its  fierceness,  drove  on  the  flames  and  smoke  towards 
vs — toward  the  Court;  till,  on  the  third  day,  they 
crossed  towards  Whitehall  itself.  Fearful,  it  was 
said,  was  the  confusion  in  the  houses  of  revelry. 
Good  men  could  think  of  nothing  that  ever  could  be 
like  it  but  the  universal  conflagration  of  the  world. 
But  again,  as  in  the  Plague,  the  Court  escaped. 
The  neighbouring  houses  were  blown  up,  so  as  to 
kill  the  flames  by  starvation ;  and  at  last  their  im- 
petuous onset  was  stayed,  and  Whitehall  was  left 
without  one  of  its  gaming-tables  or  chambers  of 
revelry  being  touched. 

Streets  in  the  west,  which  were  nests  of  unblush- 
ing wickedness,  escaped ;  whilst  the  city,  of  which 
Mr.  Baxter  said  "  there  was  not  such  another  in  the 
world  for  piety,  sobriety,  and  temperance,"  was 
burnt  to  ashes. 

Aunt  Dorothy  took  this  much  to  heart ;  and  from 
that  time  I  scarcely  remember  her  attempting  any 
more  to  interpret  the  Divine  judgments,  which  had 
once  seemed  to  her  so  easy  to  translate. 

After  the  horror  came  the  misery  and  the  desola- 
tion. It  is  when  the  ashes  of  the  fires  which  deso- 
late our  lives  are  cold  that  we  first  understand  our 
loss.  And  it  was  many  days  before  the  ashes  of 
the  great  Fire  of  London  were  cold  enough  for  men 
to  tread  them  safely  and  learn  the  extent  of  the 
ruin;  to  see  the  fountains  dried  up,  the  stones  cal- 
cined white  as  snow. 
41* 


<.S6  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF   THE  SEA. 

Two  hundred  thousand  homeless  men,  and  women, 
and  little  children  were  scattered  in  the  fields  and 
on  the  hill-sides,  chiefly  on  the  north,  as  far  as  High- 
gate,  by  the  wretched  remnants  of  their  household 
stuff.  They  were  ready  to  perish  of  hunger; — yet 
my  husband  said  they  did  not  beg  a  penny  as  he 
passed  from  group  to  group.  Some  of  them  had 
been  rich  and  delicately  lodged  and  clothed  three 
days  before,  and  had  not  learned  the  art  of  craving 
alms.  Others  were,  it  seemed,  too  stupified.  His 
Majesty  did  his  utmost  to  make  provision  for  their 
relief  (said  the  admiring  courtiers)  by  "  proclama- 
tion for  the  country  to  come  in  and  refresh  them 
with  provisions  ;"  which,  moved  by  the  proclama- 
tion of  the  king  (or  by  another  proclamation  issued 
sixteen  hundred  years  before  by  One  who  spake 
with  authority),  the  country  people  did,  to  the  glory 
of  the  king  and  the  admiration  of  the  courtiers. 

It  was  not  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  as  we 
looked  from  one  side  of  our  house  over  the  blackened 
heaps  of  cinders,  where  three  days  before  had  stood 
the  City  of  London,  and  on  the  other  towards  White- 
hall, standing  unscathed ;  when  we  thought  of  two 
thousand  faithful  servants  of  God  forbidden  to  speak 
for  Him;  often  thousand  houses,  from  not  a  few  of 
which  had  gone  up  day  and  night  true  prayer  and 
praise,  made  desolate;  of  a  hundred  thousand,  not 
a  few  of  them  good  men  and  true,  swept  av  ay  by 
the  Plague  the  year  before  ;  and  then  of  all  the  riot- 
ous voices  in  the  palace  not  silenced,  but  permitted 
to  speak  their  worst  for  the  devil ;  it  was  not  al« 
ways  easy  to  keep  firm  hold  of  the  truth  that  "  all 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA  487 

power  is  given  in  heaven  and  earth"  not  to  the 
accuser  and  the  enemy,  but  to  "Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous."  It  was  not  easy.  We  had  to  endure 
in  those  days  "  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible." 

My  husband  said,  indeed,  that  the  fire  might  prove 
to  be  God's  fumigation  against  the  pestilence  ;  and 
that  the  pestilence  itself  was  but  (as  it  were)  "  the 
ships  to  take  us  to  the  other  side,  being  sent  in  a 
fleet  instead  of  one  by  one." 

But  in  the  pestilence  which  is  inwardly  and  eter- 
nally pestilential,  the  pestilence  of  vice  and  selfish- 
ness, which  was  corrupting  the  inner  life  of  England, 
the  raging  fire  of  sin  which  consumes  not  the  disease 
but  the  soul, — who  could  see  any  good  ? 

Roger's  and  my  old  puzzle  of  the  apple  tree  yawned 
beneath  and  around  us,  a  great  gulf,  dark  and  un 
fathomable  as  of  old. 

If  our  hearts  were  less  tossed  about  on  the  surs:- 
ing  waves  of  this  abyss  than  of  old,  it  was  not  that 
the  waves  were  quieter  or  less  unfathomed.  We 
knew  them  to  be  deeper  than  we  had  dreamed. 
For  we  had  tried  line  after  line  and  touched  no  bot- 
tom. We  felt  them  to  be  more  unquiet,  fur  th« 
times  were  stormier,  and  we  w«  re  no  longer  on  the 
edge  but  launched  on  the  sea.  It,  was  simply  that, 
falling  at  the  feet  of  Him  who  stood  at  the  helm,  we 
could  worship  Him  with  a  deeper  adoration,  and 
trust  Him  with  more  confiding  simplicity.  "Th.)u 
knoWest  the  other  side,"  we  could  say.  "  Thou  art 
there.  Thou  art  taking  us  thither.  Thou  knowest 
the  depths.  Thou  alone.  Thou  hast  risen  thence, 
Thou  knowest  God.     We  see  Him  manifested  in 


488  ON  BOTH  SIDES  0/>    THE  SEA 

Thee  And  Thou  hast  said,  good  and  not  evil  if 
the  heart  and  the  crown  of  all.  And  we  are  satis- 
fied." 

So,  after  a  heavy  winter  on  the  edge  of  that  deso- 
lation which  we  could  do  so  little  to  restore,  we  left 
our  old  house  in  London  in  March,  and  went  in  the 
spring  for  a  few  weeks  to  the  old  home  at  Netherby, 
before  it  was  broken  up  and  passed  out  of  our  hands 
for  ever. 

Many  of  the  old  fields — we  had  roamed  over  every 
one  of  them — had  already  been  sold  to  meet  the  ex« 
penses  thrown  on  Roger  by  the  lawsuit.  And  now 
the  old  house  itself  was  to  be  sold.  Oliver's  Parlia- 
ment had  not  altogether  reformed  the  Law.  And  I 
suppose  no  reformation  of  laws  avails  very  much 
when  the  men  who  administer  them  are  corrupt. 
Besides,  unsuccessful  revolution  must  be  dealt  with 
as  rebellious;  those  who  fail  must  expect  to  suffer. 
Roger  and  most  of  us  had  made  our  account  for 
that,  and  it  was  not  of  that  we  complained. 

It  was  not  safe  for  Roger  and  Lettice  to  be  with 
us  at  Netherby. 

Of  this  I  was  almost  glad.  The  more  the  old 
home  was  like  itself,  the  harder  it  would  be  to  leave. 
There  were  enough  voices  silent  for  ever,  making 
every  chamber,  and  every  nook  of  garden  and  pleas- 
ance  sacred  by  their  echoes,  to  make  the  paiting 
such  a  wrench  as  scarcely  leaves  us  the  same  ev  ai 
after. 

All  Aunt  Dorothy's  Puritan  training  had  not 
swept  the  heathen  idolatry  out  of  my  heai't.  For 
what  else  was  it  to  fee]  as  if  all  the  dumb  and  life- 


0A-  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  485 

less  things  had  voices  calling  me  and  pleading  **  for 
eake  us  not,  forsake  us  not,  have  we  served  you  so 
ill  ?"  and  arms  stretched  out  to  cling  to  us  and  dra  w 
us  back. 

The  store-room  over  the  porch,  where  Roger  and 
1  had  held  our  Sunday  conversations;  the  chamber 
where  my  father's  books  and  mathematical  instru- 
ments still  were,  where  he  had  taken  me  on  his  knee 
and  said,  "  Before  the  great  mysteries,  I  can  only 
wonder  and  wait  and  say  like  thee, '  Father,  how  can 
I  understand,  a  little  child  like  meV  " — the  wainscoted 
parlour  where  "Mr.  Cromwell  of  Ely"  had  talked 
to  us  of  "  his  little  wenches,"  and  looked  at  Roger 
with  softened  eyes,  thinking,  perchance,  of  that 
death  of  his  first-born  which  "  went  as  a  sword  to 
his  heart,  indeed  it  did;"  where  John  Milton  (not 
blind  then)  had  played  on  the  organ,  and  discoursed 
with  Dr.  Jeremy  Taylor; — how  dared  I  have  tears 
to  spare  for  leaving  such  as  these,  or  even  the  graves 
of  our  fathers  in  the  old  church  they  had  helped  to 
build,  and  the  pews  where  we  and  ours  had  knelt 
for  generations,  when  England  had  lost  Liberty 
and  the  strenuous  heart  to  strive  for  it,  and  it 
seemed  almost  the  heart  to  weep  for  it  now  it 
was  gone,  and  could  not  afford  her  nc blest  even  a 
grave  ? 

But  there  were  other  partings  which  went  far 
deeper  into  the  heart,,  on  which  even  now  it  is  best 
not  to  dwell  much,  partings  iron,  (.hose  whom  it 
was  no  idolatry  to  feel  it  very  sore  to  leave,  old 
faithful  friends — our  father's  friends;  (and  every 
familiar  face  in  the  village,  as  it  came  to  sec  us  go 


f0C  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 

was  as  the  face  of  a  friend  to  us,  going  we  knew  not 
whither,  among  we  knew  not  whom.) 

We  could  never  hare  left  them  had  it  been  possi- 
ble fo"  it*  to  befriend  and  succour  them  longer  at 
home.     As  many  as  could  loave  went  with  us. 

And  hardest  of  all  it  was  to  pass  the  old  forge, 
and  see  no  friendly  faces  there,  and  know  that  Job 
and  Rachel  were  praying  for  us  in  the  old  cottage 
within  not  daring  to  see  us  go. 

Cousin  Placidia  was  away  making  the  last  effort 
to  release  her  son. 

So  we  went  at  the  beginning  of  April  to  South- 
ampton, where  the  ship  was.  We  had  to  wait  some 
days  there  for  her  sailing.  Dreary,  blank  days,  wo 
thought  they  must  be,  suspended  between  the  old 
life  and  the  new.  But  two  surprises  made  them 
bright  to  us  as  a  beginning,  rather  an  end. 

Two  days  before  we  started,  Isaac  appeared,  with 
his  mother.  He  looked  very  much  as  if  the  prison 
had  indeed  been  a  Paradise  to  him ;  and  her  face 
sharp  and  worn  as  it  was,  seemed  to  me  stamped 
with  the  cares  which  enrich,  instead  of  impoverish- 
in^,  the  cares  of  love  instead  of  the  cares  of  covet- 
ousness.  There  was  a  glow  and  a  rest  in  her  eyes, 
as  she  looked  on  Isaac  and  Maidie,  which  I  had 
never  seen  there  before.  And  as  to  Isaac  and  xVIai- 
die,  I  believe  distinctions  of  time  and  place  were 
just  then  so  d'm  to  them,  that  if  you  had  asked 
them  where  those  days  were  spent,  they  would  have 
been  clear  but  on  one  point,  and  that  was  that  it 
was  most  surely  not  in  the  Old  World,  but  in  a 
world  altogether  and  for  ever  New. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  ^ 

Thus,  as  so  often  in  the  music  of  this  changing 
life,  the  "dying  falls"  were  interlinked  with  the 
swell  of  the  opening  chords.  And  so,  with  nothing 
to  mark  it  as  the  last,  the  last  evening  came. 

So  the  last  evening  came.  Iio^er  and  Lettice, 
with  their  little  Harry  Davenant,  were  already  safe 
•on  board.  We  were  to  join  them  at  the  dawn. 
And  when  we  climbed  up  into  the  ship,  very  strange 
it  was  to  find  my  hand  in  the  welcoming  grasp  of  a 
strong  hand,  certainly  not  that  of  a  strange  sailor's, 
and  looking  up,  to  see  Job  Forster,  with  Rachel  and 
Annis  Nye  behind  him. 

"There  was  no  help  for  it.  That  wilful  maid 
would  come,"  he  said,  apologizing  to  himself  for 
doing  what  he  liked.  "She  had  the 'concern' at 
last  I  have  been  afraid  of  all  along.  She  was  set 
on  going  into  the  lion's  den ;  so,  of  course,  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  for  Rachel  and  me  to  come 
and  take  care  of  her." 

So  we  sailed  down  Southampton  water,  by  the 
shoi-es  the  May-flower  had  left  nearly  a  half  a  century 
before.  There  were  clouds  over  the  wooded  slopes 
of  the  dear  old  country  as  we  looked  our  last  at  her, 
which  broke  ere  we  had  been  lon<x  on  board,  blend- 
ing  earth  and  sky  in  a  wild  storm  of  rain.  But  be- 
fore we  lost  sight  of  the  shore,  the  clouds  were  span- 
ned by  the  rare  glory  of  a  perfect  rainbow,  bridging 
the  storm  will  hope. 

Then,  as  we  sailed  on,  the  clouds  rose  slowly  and 
majestically,  detaching  themselves  from  earth  in 
grand  sculptured  masses,  like  couchant  lions  guard- 
ing the  land;  until  at  sunset  they  hud  soared  fai 


^9  2  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF    THE  SB  A. 

up  the  quiet  heavens,  and  hovered  like  angels  witn 
folded  wings  over  a  land  at  rest. 

And  as  we  looked,  Lettice  said  to  Roger, — 
"  See,  is  it  not  a  promise  of  the  better  sunshine 
hereafter  to  come  ?" 

"  It  is  a  witness  of  the  sunshine  now  behind,"  ha 
said  ;  "  of  the  unquenchable  sun  which  shines  on 
both  the  Old  England  and  the  New."  And  he 
added  in  a  low  voice,  in  the  words  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well, "  '  Jesus  Christ  of  whose  diocese  we  aref  on  Both 
Sides  of  the  Sea." 

CONCLUSION. 
olive's  meditations  on  the  othek  side  of 

THE    SEA. 

JVew  Netherby,  1691. — New  always  to  us,  but  al 
ready  to  many  grown  into  "  the  old  house  at  home." 

Again  I  am  alone  in  the  house,  as  on  the  day 
when  the  quiet  rustling  of  the  summer  air  among 
the  long  grasses,  and  the  shining  of  the  smooth 
water,  and  the  smell  of  the  hay  from  the  hay-stack, 
carried  me  back  to  the  old  house  on  the  borders  of 
the  Fen  country,  in  the  days  of  my  childhood. 

The  crimson  and  gold  of  a  richer-coloured  autumn 
than  that  at  home  glows  in  the  forests  and  in  the 
still  creek  below,  over  which  the  great  trees  bend 
And  autumn  is  also  on  our  lives ;  its  fading  leaves, 
and  also,  I  trust,  its  harvests  and  its  calms. 

At  many  intervals,  these  recollections  of  my  life 
have  been  gathered  together  out  of  the  old  yellow 
leaves  in  the  oaken  chest. 


ON  BOTH  SID  A3  OF  THE  SEA.  ^3 

The  past  has  lived  again  to  me  through  thein 
But  net  through  these  pages  alone.  The  past  lives 
not  only  in  the  dried  herbs  and  grasses,  in  memories 
and  monuments,  but  in  every  blade  of  grass  and  ear 
of  corn  of  the  present ;  in  our  new  houses  and  our 
old  home  customs,  our  new  laws,  our  new  conflicts, 
our  victories  and  our  hopes. 

Old  England  lives  and  breathes  in  every  breath 
of  this  our  New  England.  Sometimes  from  what 
we  have  heard  during  the  dreary  years  of  oppres- 
sion, we  have  thought  she  lived  more  truly  here 
than  in  the  England  we  have  left. 

The  household  is  away,  and  the  pleasant  cheery 
house  is  silent.  It  is  not  the  harvesting  that  has 
emptied  the  house  and  the  village  to-day.  It  is  the 
thanksgiving  for  the  harvest ;  the  one  festival  which 
the  first  settlers  in  the  wilderness  appointed,  in  the 
first  year  of  their  exile,  when  the  land  was  indeed  a 
wilderness  and  an  exile,  and  the  next  harvest  a  pre- 
carious blessing.  More  than  half  a  century  this  fes- 
tival has  been  kept.  A  venerable  antiquity  for  New 
England. 

And  now  our  hearts  are  rich  with  tenfold  offer- 
ings of  praise. 

For  at  last  we  believe  the  harvest  of  the  seed 
sown  in  the  wars  and  suffering  of  early  days  has 
been  brought  in  ! 

The  great  Englishman  who,  as  we  believe,  served 
England  so  well,  has  still  no  monument  in  our  coun- 
try    nor  even  a  grave. 

But  a  true  Prince  of  a  race  of  princely  deliverers, 
a  race  whose  deeds   fulfil   more   than  their  wordl 
42 


^4  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

promise,  the  grandson  of  William    the    Silent,  till 
Liberator  of  Holland — is  on  the  throne  of  England. 

Once  more,  on  the  last  days  of  January,  forty 
years  after  the  death  of  Charles  the  First,  the  throne 
was  vacant.     For  King  James  had  fled. 

The  link  with  the  past,  so  sacred  in  England, which 
failed  Oliver,  places  William  of  Orange  on  the  throne. 

"  Yet,"  saith  Roger,  "  but  for  Oliver,  King  James 
had  never  fled,  nor  William  of  Orange  never  reigned. 
The  throne  of  the  one  hero  is  the  best  monument 
of  the  other." 

Heavier  and  heavier  the  tidings  came  to  us  from 
across  the  seas  year  after  year;  until  the  climax 
seemed  to  us  to  be  reached,  when  in  one  year  one 
gentlewoman  was  beheaded  at  Winchester  for  giv- 
ing refuge  to  two  fugitives  of  Monmouth's  Rebel- 
lion,  and  another  was  burnt  at  Tyburn  for  a  similar 
act  of  mercy. 

The  free  Puritan  spirit  seemed  to  us  often  extinct 
during  those  years  of  corruption  and  wrong.  Hope 
of  deliverance  for  the  nation  seemed  to  have  ex- 
pired in  men's  hearts.  The  best  men  seemed  to 
gather  up  all  their  courage  to  suffer  cheerfully. 
Christianity  appeared  no  more  with  the  sword  of 
the  warrior,  keen  to  redress  wrong,  or  the  sword  of 
justice,  heavy  to  suppress  it,  but  with  meek  folded 
hands  as  the  martyr  to  endure  it. 

Yet  we  know  all  through  the  darkness  the  old 
fires  were  burning  still,  thuugh  they  burned  now 
in  the  still  fires  of  devotion,  patience,  and  meditac 
tion,  rather  than  in  the  flames  which  consume  ftt 
ters  or  which  evangelize  the  world. 


OX  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  4y; 

Beautiful  words  came  to  us  from  across  the  sea 
*Mgh  words  of  highest  hope  when  lower  hopes  were 
quenched ;  of  largest  tolerance  of  difference  of 
thought,  blended  with  a  truthfulness  ready  for  any 
sacrifice  rather  than  darken  the  soul  with  the  least 
shadow  of  falsehood. 

The  very  names  of  the  books  written  then,  with 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  were  written, 
sounded  to  us  like  a  psalm. 

From  imprisoned  Bunyan,  a  "  Pilgrim's  Progress 
from  this  world  to  a  better,"  written  in  Bedford  gaol. 

From  blind  Milton,  barely  suffered  to  live,  "The 
Paradise  Lost  and  Regained  "  sung  in  the  darkness 
which  he  felt  to  be  "  the  shadow  of  celestial  wings," 
in  that  lost  England  he  never  lived  to  see  restored. 

From  silenced  Owen,  "The  Glory  of  the  Person 
of  Christ,"  "  The  Mortification  of  Sin  in  Believers." 

From  silenced  Howe,  "  The  Living  Temple,'* 
"  The  Blessedness  of  the  Righteous,"  "  On  Delight- 
ing in  God,"  "  The  Redeemer's  Dominion  over 
Hades." 

It  was  of  little  avail  to  the  kingdom  of  dark- 
ness the  silencing  of  such  as  these.  It  was  silenc- 
ing their  thoughts  from  "a  life,"  to  "an  immor- 
tality." It  was  giving  them  a  planet  to  preach 
from  instead  of  a  pulpit. 

R  was  of  little  avail  to  crush  with  a  weight  of 
oppression  hearts  such  as  these.  All  the  oppressions 
pressed  out  of  them — no  moans,  but  only  immortal 


9ongs. 


And  dear  to  us  as  any  were  the  wise  and  mel- 
lowed word-;  of  Richard  Baxter,  especially  his  decl3 


496  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

ration  of  the  "things  in  which  he  himself  had  chingtd* 
as  be  learned,  by  tbe  slow  teaching  of  life. 

In  our  hearts  they  were  written  in  letters  of 
gold,  the  autumnal  gold  of  harvests. 

"Among  all  parties,"  be  wrote,  "I  found  some 
that  were  naturally  of  mild,  and  calm,  and  gentle 
dispositions;  some  of  sour,  froward,  peevish  na- 
tures. Some  were  raw,  inexperienced,  and  harsh, 
like  a  young  fruit.  And  some  I  found  to  be  like 
ripe  fruit,  mellow  and  sweet,  first  pure,  then  peace- 
able, easy  to  be  entreated. 

"  But  the  difference  between  the  godly  and  un- 
godly was  here  the  most  considerable  of  all. 

"  In  my  youth  I  was  quickly  past  my  fundamen- 
tals, and  was  running  up  into  a  multitude  of  con- 
troversies ;  but  the  older  I  grew  the  smaller  stress 
I  laid  on  these  controversies  and  curiosities  (though 
still  my  intellect  abhorreth  confusion),  as  finding 
greater  uncertainties  in  them  than  I  at  first  dis- 
cerned ;  and  finding  less  usefulness  even  where 
there  is  the  greatest  certainty.  The  Creed,  the 
Lord's  Prayer  and.  the  Ten  Commandments^  are  now  to 
me  as  my  daily  bread  and  drink  ;  and  as  I  can  sj)eak 
and  write  over  them  again  and  again,  so  I  had 
rather  read  and  hear  of  them  than  of  any  of  the 
school  niceties.  And  this  I  observed  with  Bishop 
Hooker  also,  and  with  many  other  men. 

"  Heretofore  I  placed  much  of  my  religion  in 
tenderness  of  heart  and  grieving  for  sin,  and  peni- 
tential tears,  and  less  of  it  in  the  love  of  God,  and 
studying  His  love  and  goodness,  than  now  I  do. 
Now  my  conscience  looketh  at  love  and  delight  in 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


497 


God,  and  praising  Him,  as  the  top  of  all  my  reli 
gious  duties,  for  which  it  is  that  I  value  and  use 
all  the  rest. 

"I  was  once  wont  to  meditate  most  on  my  own 
heart,  and  to  dwell  all  at  home,  and  look  little 
higher;  I  was  still  poring  either  on  my  sins  or 
wants ;  but  now,  though  I  am  greatly  convinced  of 
the  need  of  heart-acquaintance  and  employment, 
vet  I  see  more  need  of  a  higher  work.  At  home  I 
find  distempers  to  trouble  me,  and  some  evidences 
of  "race ;  but  it  is  above  that  I  must  find  matters 
of  delight  and  joy,  and  love  and  praise  itself. 
Therefore  I  would  have  one  thought  at  home  upon 
myself  and  my  sins,  and  many  thoughts  upon 
Christ,  and  God,  and  heaven. 

"  Heretofore,  I  knew  ranch  less  than  now ;  and 
yet  was  not  half  so  much  acquainted  with  my  igno- 
rance ;  but  now  I  find  far  greater  darkness  upon 
all  things,  and  perceive,  how  very  little  it  is  that 
we  know  in  comparison  with  that  we  are  igno- 
rant of. 

"  I  see  more  good  and  more  evil  in  all  men  than 
hei-etofore  I  did ;  I  see  that  good  men  are  not  so 
good  as  I  once  thought  they  were,  but  have  more 
imperfections.  And  I  find  few  are  so  bad  as  either 
their  malicious  enemies,  or  censorious  separating 
professors  do  imagine.  Even  in  the  wicked  gener- 
ally, there  is  more  for  grace  to  make  advantage  of, 
and  more  to  testify  for  God  and  holiness  than  I 
once  believed  there  had  been. 

"I  less  admire  gifts  of  utterance,  and  bare  profe* 
sion  of  religion   than  I  once  did,  and  have  much 
'  42* 


+98  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA 

more  charity  for  those  who  by  the  want  of  gift**  dc 
make  an  obscurer  profession ;  for  I  have  met  with 
divers  obscure  persons,  not  noted  for  any  extraor- 
dinary profession  or  forwardness  in  religion,  but 
only  to  live  a  quiet  blameless  life,  whom  I  have  arte* 
found  to  have  long  lived,  as  far  as  I  could  discern, 
a  truly  godly  and  sanctified  life.  Yet  he  that  on 
this  pretence  would  confound  the  godly  and  the  un- 
godly, may  as  well  go  about  to  bring  heaven  ard 
hell  together. 

"  I  am  not  so  narrow  in  my  special  love,  nor  in 
my  principles  of  church  communion  as  heretofore. 

"  My  soul  is  much  more  affected  with  the  thoughts 
of  the  miserable  world,  and  more  drawn  out  in  de- 
sire of  their  conversion  than  heretofore.  Could  we 
but  go  among  Tartarians,  Turks,  and  heathens,  and 
speak  their  language,  I  should  be  little  troubled  for 
the  silencing  of  eighteen  hundred  ministers  at  once 
in  England,  nor  for  all  the  rest  that  were  cast  out 
here,  and  in  Scotland  and  Ireland ;  there  being  no 
employment  in  the  world  so  desirable  in  my  eyes  as 
to  labour  for  the  winning  of  such  miserable  souls, 
which  maketh  me  greatly  honour  Mr.  John  Eliot, 
the  Apostle  of  the  Indians  in  New  England,  and 
whoever  else  have  laboured  in  this  work. 

"  Yet  am  I  not  so  much  inclined  to  pass  a  peremp- 
tory sentence  of  denunciation  upon  all  that  have 
never  heard  of  Christ,  having  some  more  reason 
than  I  had  before  to  think  that  God's  dealing  with 
such  is  much  unknown  to  us. 

'/I  am  farther  than  ever  from  hopes  of  a  goldeu 
age  here,  and  more  apprehensive  that  suffering  must 


ON   BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA. 


49) 


be  the  Chinch's  ordinary  lot,  and  that  Christiana 
must  indeed  be  cross-bearers.  And  though  God 
would  have  vicissitudes  of  summer  and  winter,  day 
and  night,  that  the  Church  may  grow  extensively  in 
the  summer  of  prosperity,  and  intensively  and  radi- 
eately  in  the  Avinter  of  adversity,  yet  usually  their 
night  is  longer  than  their  day,  and  that  day  itself 
hath  its  storms  and  tempests.  The  Church  will  be 
still  imperfect  and  sinful,  and  will  have  those  dis- 
eases which  need  the  bitter  remedy. 

"  My  censures  of  the  Papists  do  much  differ  from 
what  they  were  at  first.  I  then  thought  that  their 
errors  in  doctrine  were  their  most  dangerous  mis- 
takes, as  to  the  points  of  merit,  justification  by 
works,  assurance  of  salvation,  the  nature  of  faith. 
But  now  I  am  assured  that  their  mis-expressions 
and  misunderstanding,  with  our  mistakings  of  them, 
and  inconvenient  expressing  our  own  opinions,  hath 
made  the  dhTerences  in  these  points  to  appear  much 
greater  than  they  are ;  and  that  in  some  of  them  it 
is  next  to  none  at  all. 

"  But  the  threat  and  irreconcilable  differences  lie  in 
their  Church  tyranny  and  usurpations,  and  in  their 
great  corruptions  and  abasements  of  God's  worship, 
with  their  befriending  of  ignorance  and  vice.  I 
doubt  not  but  that  God  hath  many  sanctified  ones 
among  them,  who  have  received  the  doctrine  of 
Christianity  so  practically,  that  their  contradictory 
errors  prevail  not  against  them  to  hinder  their  love 
of  God  and  their  salvation,  but  that  their  errors  are 
like  a  conquerable  dose  of  poison  which  nature  doth 
overcome.    And  I  can  never  believe  that  a  man  maj 


Soo  ON  BOTH  SIDES    OF  THE  SEA. 

not  be  saved  by  that  religion  which  doth  but  bring 
him  to  the  true  love  of  God,  and  a  heavenly  mind 
and  life;  nor  that  God  will  ever  cast  a  soul  into 
beil  that  truly  loveth  Him. 

"  I  cannot  be  so  narrow  in  my  principles  of  Church 
communion  as  many  are.  Many  are  so  much  for  a 
liturgy  or  so  much  against  it,  so  much  for  ceremo- 
nies or  so  much  against  them,  that  they  can  hold 
communion  with  no  Church  that  is  not  of  their  mind 
and  way. 

"  I  am  much  less  regardful  of  the  approbation  of 
man,  and  set  much  lighter  by  contempt  or  applause 
than  I  did  long  ago  ;  all  wordly  things  appear  most 
unsatisfactory  where  we  have  tried  them  most ;  yet, 
as  far  as  I  can  perceive,  the  knowledge  of  man's 
nothingness  and  God's  transcendent  greatness,  wTitb 
whom  it  is  that  I  have  most  to  do,  and  the  sense  of 
the  brevity  of  human  things  and  the  nearness  oi 
eternity,  are  the  principal  causes  of  this  effect. 

"I  am  much  more  apprehensive  than  long  ago 
of  the  odiousness  and  danger  of  the  sin  of  pride, 
especially  in  matters  spiritual  and  ecclesiastical  I 
think  so  far  as  any  man  is  proud  he  is  given  to  (he 
Devil,  and  entirely  a  stranger  to  God  and  himself. 
It's  a  wonder  that  it  should  be  a  ]>ossible  sin,  to  men 
that  still  carry  about  with  them,  in  soul  and  body, 
such  humbling  matter  as  we  all  do. 

"I  am  much  more  sensible  than  heretofore  of  the 
breadth,  length,  and  dept'a  of  the  radical,  universal, 
odious  sia  of  selfishness ;  and  of  the  excellency  and 
necessity  of  self-denial,  and  of  a  public  mind,  and 
of  loving  our  neighbour  a3  ourselves. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  TJJJi   SrfA.  501 

"  I  am  more  and  more  sensible  that  most  contro- 
versies have  more  need  of  right  stating  than  of  de- 
bating ;  and  if  my  skill  be  increased  in  anything  it  is 
in  that ;  narrowing  controversies  by  explication  and 
separating  the  real  from  the  verbal,  and  proving  to 
many  contenders  that  they  differ  less  than  they 
think  they  do. 

"  I  am  more  solicitous  than  I  have  been  about  my 
duty  to  God,  and  less  about  His  dealings  with  me ; 
as  being  assured  that  He  will  do  all  things  well, 
and  as  knowing  there  is  no  rest  but  in  the  will  and 
goodness  of  God. 

"I  must  mention  it  by  way  of  penitent  confession 
that  I  am  too  much  inclined  to  such  words  in  con- 
troversial writings  which  are  too  keen,  and  apt  to 
provoke  the  person  I  write  against.  I  have  a  strong 
natural  inclination  to  call  a  spade  a  spade.  I  confess 
it  is  faulty,  because  it  is  a  hindrance  to  the  useful- 
ness of  what  I  write  ;  and  especially  because  though 
I  feel  no  anger,  yet  (which  is  worse)  I  know  there 
is  some  want  of  honour  and  love  and  tenderness  to 
others,  and  therefore  I  repent  of  it,  and  wish  all 
over-sharp  passages  were  expunged  from  my  writ- 
ings, and  desire  forgiveness  of  God  and  man.  .And 
ye«,  I  must  say  thai  I  am  often  afraid  of  the  contrary 
extreme,  lest  wlien  I  speak  againsl  great  and  dan- 
geivus  erro-s  and  sins,  I  should  encourage  men  to 
then,  by  epcak:ng  too  easily  of  them,  as  Eli  did  to 
his  sous. 

"I  mention  vh^e  distempers  that  my  faults  may 
be  a  warning  10  others  to  take  heed,  as  they  call 
on  mysfoit    lo»    T^eutance    and   watchfulness       0 


$02 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF   THE  SEA. 


Lord,  for  the  merits  and  sacrifice  and  intercession 
of  Christ,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,  and  forgive 
my  known  and  unknown  sins." 

These  words  are  as  familiar  to  us  as  a  liturgy, 
so  often  used  Aunt  Dorothy  to  ask  them  to  be 
read  over  to  her;  although  to  the  last  the  part  she 
oftenest  asked  me  to  rtad  was  that  about  the  dan- 
ger of  the  "  contrary  extreme  of  speaking  too 
easily  of  dangerous  errors  and  sins,"  to  which  she 
always  gave  her  most  emphatic  Amen. 

She  forgave  Mr.  Baxter,  however,  for  his  mar- 
riage, on  consideration  of  his  young  wife's  generous 
assistance  of  destitute  ministers,  of  her  own  and 
her  mother's  "  manly  patience"  in  adversities,  and 
of  the  faithful  affection  with  which  she  shared  and 
cheered  her  husband's  imprisonment. 

And  dear  to  Aunt  Dorothy  beyond  all  othef 
uninspired  writings  was  Mr.  Baxter's  prison-hymn 

"THE  RESOLUTION. 

"  Most  I  be  driven  from  my  books, 

From  bouse,  and  goods,  and  dearest  friends  t 
One  of  Thy  sweet  and  gracious  looks 

For  more  than  tins  will  make  amends. 
The  world's  Thy  book  :  there  I  can  read 

Thy  power,  wisdom,  and  Thy  love ; 
And  thence  ascend  by  faith,  and  feed 

Upon  the  better  things  above. 

"  I'll  read  Thy  works  of  providence : 
Thy  Spirit,  conscience,  and  Thy  rod 
Can  teach  without  these  all  the  sense 
To  know  the  world,  myself,  and  God, 


ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SEA.  503 

Few  books  will  serve  when  Thou  wilt  teach, 

Many  have  stolen  my  precious  time  ; 
I'll  leave  my  books  to  hear  Thee  preach, 

Church-work  is  best  when  Thou  dost  chime. 

*  As  for  my  home  it  was  my  tent, 

While  there  I  waited  on  Thy  flock  ; 
T\at  work  is  done,  that  time  is  spent, 

There  neither  was  my  home  nor  stock. 
Would  I  in  all  my  journey  have 

Still  the  same  sun  and  furniture  ? 
Or  ease  and  pleasant  dwellings  crave, 

Forgetting  what  Thy  saints  endure  ? 

*  My  Lord  hath  taught  me  how  to  want 

A  place  wherein  to  put  my  head  ; 
While  He  is  mine,  I'll  be  content 

To  beg  or  lack  my  daily  bread. 
Heaven  is  my  roof,  earth  is  my  floor  ; 

Thy  love  can  keep  me  dry  and  warm ; 
Christ  and  Thy  bounty  are  my  store  ; 

Thy  angels  guard  me  from  all  harm. 

*  As  for  my  friends,  they  are  not  lost ; 

The  several  vessels  of  Thy  fleet, 
Though  parted  now,  by  tempest  tost, 

Shall  safely  in  the  haven  meet. 
Still  we  are  centred  all  in  Thee  ; 

Members,  thought  distant,  of  one  Head  ; 
In  the  same  family  we  be, 

By  the  same  fai*h  and  Spirit  led. 

Before  Thy  throne  we  daily  meet, 

As  joint  petitioners  to  Thee  ; 
In  spirit  we  each  other  greet, 

And  shall  again  each  other  see. 
The  heavenly  hosts,  world  without  end. 

Shall  be  my  company  above ; 


j04  ON  BOTH  SIDES   OF  THE  SILL 

And  Thou  my  best  and  surest  Friend — 
Who  shall  divide  me  from  Thy  love  ? 

"  Must  I  forsake  the  soil  and  air 

Where  first  I  drew  my  vital  breath  ? 
That  way  may  be  as  near  and  fair, 

Thence  I  may  come  to  Thee  by  death. 
All  countries  are  my  Father's  lands  ; 

Thy  sun,  Thy  love  doth  shine  on  all ; 
We  may  in  all  lift  up  pure  hands. 

And  with  acceptance  on  Thee  call. 

'  What  if  in  prison  I  must  dwell, 

May  I  not  there  converse  with  Thee  T 
Save  me  from  sin,  Thy  wrath,  and  hell, 

Call  me  Thy  child,  and  I  am  free. 
No  walls  or  bars  can  keep  Thee  out ; 

None  can  confine  a  holy  soul, 
The  streets  of  heaven  it  walks  about ; 

None  can  its  liberty  control. 

"  Must  I  feel  sicknesses  and  smart 

And  spend  my  days  and  nights  in  pals 
Yet  if  Thy  love  refresh  my  heart, 

I  need  not  overmuch  complain. 
This  flesh  has  drawn  my  soul  to  sin, 

If  it  must  smart,  Thy  will  be  done. 
Oh,  fill  me  with  Thy  joys  within, 

And  then  I'll  let  it  grieve  alone ! 

1 1  know  my  flesh  must  turn  to  dust, 

My  parted  soul  must  come  to  Thee, 
And  undergo  Thy  j  udgments  j  ust, 

And  in  the  endless  world  must  be. 
In  this  there's  most  of  fear  and  joy, 

Because  there's  most  of  sin  and  gmm  i 
Sin  will  this  mortal  frame  destroy, 

But  Christ  will  bring  me  to  Thy  face. 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF   THE  SEA  lot, 

"  SI  all  I  draw  back,  and  fear  the  end 

Of  all  my  sorrows,  fears,  and  pain, 
To  which  my  life  and  labours  tend, 

Without  which  all  had  been  in  vain? 
Can  I  for  ever  be  content 

Without  true  happiness  and  rest  ? 
Is  earth  become  so  excellent 

That  I  should  take  it  for  my  best? 

"  Or  can  I  think  of  finding  here 

That  which  my  soul  60  long  has  sought  ? 
Should  I  refuse  those  joys,  through  fear, 

Which  bounteous  love  so  dear  has  bought  ? 
All  that  does  taste  of  heaven  is  good  ; 

When  heavenly  light  does  me  inform, 
When  heavenly  life  stirrs  in  my  blood, 

WThen  heavenly  love  my  heart  doth  warm. 

"  Though  all  the  reasons  I  can  see, 

Why  should  I  willingly  submit, 
And  comfortably  come  to  Thee — 

My  God,  Thou  must  accomplish  it. 
The  love  which  filled  up  all  my  days 

Will  not  forsake  me  to  the  end  ; 
This  broken  body  Thou  wilt  raise, 

My  spirit  I  to  Thee  commend." 

Such  was  the  kind  of  whine  or  moan  which  per- 
secution drew  from  the  true  Puritans  !  Such  was 
the  music  oppression  drew  by  its  strain  from 
strings  not  otherwise  deemed  musical.  It  is  the 
solitary  spontaneous  songs  of  those  whose  natural 
speech  is  a  quiet  prose,  which,  more  than  anything, 
make  me  comprehend  what  is  meant  by  the  New 
Song. 

We  sang  that  livmn  by  Aunt  Dorothy's  grave, 
43 


<o6  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

on  the  hill-side,  under  the  old  oak-tree  where  she 
loved  to  sit  on  summer  evenings  She  used  to  say 
the  sound  of  the  wind  in  the  leaves  took  her  back 
to  old  Netherby;  and  from  its  shade  she  could 
catch  a  gleam  of  the  sea,  on  the  other  side  of  which 
is  England. 

We  had  not  expected,  and  we  did  not  find  New 
England  to  be  an  Eden,  where  the  conflict  would 
be  over.  It  has  been  possible,  however,  tc  wage 
"the  good  fight"  here,  not  only  for  our  own  souls, 
but  "  in  those  public  services  for  which  a  man  is 
born."  For  that  end  we  took  refuge  here  ;  and  we 
are  content.  Yet  of  some  wars  we  have,  I  trust, 
seen  the  victorious  end.  Since  the  "being"  of  the 
plantations  seems  secure,  men  have  more  leisure  to 
seek  their  "well-being."  Since  law  has  grown  to 
have  firmer  roots,  the  lawgivers  have  grown  more 
merciful.  Magistrates  and  ministers  have  ceased 
to  persecute,  and  Quakers  have  ceased  to  provoke. 
Which  was  the  cause  and  which  the  effect,  will  per- 
haps long  remain  a  subject  of  debate. 

Just  now,  however,  there  are  terrible  rumours  of 
witches,  which  recall  the  old  witch-drowning  and 
rescue  of  Gammer  Grindle  on  Netherby  Mere  in  my 
early  days.  Wretched  old  women  are  said  to  be 
accusing  themselves  of  riding  through  the  air  on 
sticks,  and  of  having  evil  spirits  in  the  form  of  cats 
to  wait  on  them,  knowing  that  if  convicted  they 
will  be  hung.  My  husband  thinks  that,  by-and-by, 
when  the  magistrates  cease  to  excite  diseased  fancies 
by  threats  of  the  gallows,  and  thus  the  stimulus  of 
danger  is  withdrawn,  the  witches  will  cease  to  be 


ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.  507 

liev«  they  deserved  a  terrible  punishment  by  having 
committed  impossible  crimes.* 

Meantime  John  Eliot  has  been  fighting  the  devil  in 
more  undeniable  forms  by  preaching  the  gospel  to 
the  Indians.  He  reduced  the  language  to  writing, 
and  translated  the  Bible  into  it.  At  first  the  Pau- 
waws,  their  magicians  or  "  clergymen,"  were  furi- 
ous, and  threatened  his  life.  But  he  went  fearlessly, 
alone,  among  them.  "  I  am  about  the  work  of  tho 
great  God,"  he  said.  "  God  is  with  me.  Touch  me 
if  you  dare."  Now  there  are  six  churches  of  bap- 
tized praying  Indians,  and  eighteen  assemblies  of 
catechumens. 

Yet  when  he  was  passing  away,  he  said  there  was 
a  dark  cloud  on  the  work  among  the  Indians.  The 
nation  itself  seems  to  fade  before  us.  The  praying 
Indians  perish  like  caged  deer  in  their  Christian 
villages. 

Now  the  life  of  love  which  has  been  shining 
among  them  and  us  so  many  years,  has  at  last  faded 
from  our  vision. 

The  firm,  gentle  hand  which  "  rang  the  curfew  for 
contentions"  is  still;  the  voice  and  the  life  which 
preached  among  us  so  constantly  "  bear,  forbear,  for- 
give" are  silenced.  The  eyes  which  flashed  so  in- 
dignantly against  wrongs  to  the  weak  and  helpless, 
and  which  glanced  so  tenderly  on  the  little  children, 
are  closed.    The  "  lambs  which  Christ  is  not  willing 

*  "  When  the  persecution  of  the  witches  ceased,  the  Lord 
chained  up  Satan,  that  tho  afflicted  grew  presently  well."— 
r.  Cotton  Mather. 


5o8  ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

U>  lose"  will  watch  for  John  Eliot's  smile  and  kindly 
word  henceforth  in  vain. 

Whenever  bad  news  came  from  England  (and  it 
came  so  often !),  he  would  say,  "  These  are  some  of 
the  clouds  in  which  the  Son  of  man  will  come." 

And  now  the  better  tidings  have  come,  he  has 
passed  to  better  still.  The  Son  of  man  has  come 
for  him,  not  in  a  cloud  of  darkness  but  of  light. 

When  he  was  too  feeble  to  labour  longer  among 
his  Indians,  he  said,  "  I  wonder  for  what  my  Lord 
keeps  me  longer  here."  And  then  he  turned  to  such 
sufferers  as  his  labours  could  yet  reach.  His  last 
efforts  were  to  gather  the  negro  servants  of  the  set- 
tlers and  teach  them.  His  last  scholar  was  a  blind 
boy  whom  he  took  to  be  with  him  in  his  house. 

His  last  words  to  us  still  in  the  battle-field  were 
"Pray,  pray,  pray." 

His  first  words  to  the  victors  he  has  joined  were, 
"  Welcome,  joy." 

And  soon  after  this  our  "  Apostle  of  the  Indians  " 
died.     Mr.  Baxter  wrote : — 

"  There  was  no  man  on  earth  whom  I  honoured 
above  him.  It  is  his  evangelical  work  that  is  the 
Apostolical  Succession  I  plead  for.  I  am  now  dy 
ing,  I  hope,  as  he  did.  It  pleased  me  to  read  from 
him  my  case  ('  my  understanding  faileth,  my  mem- 
ory faileth,  my  tongue  faileth,  but  my  charity  fail- 
eth not').  That  word  much  comforted  me.  God 
preserve  you  and  New  England." 

Thus  New  England  has  already  her  apostolic 
fathers  and  her  sacred  graves. 

A  few  months  passed,  and  then  we  heard  hew 
Richard  Baxter  had  followed  Eliot  home. 


ON  BOTH  SID  US   OF  THE  SEA. 


509 


"  I  have  pain,"  he  said ;  "  there  is  no  arguing 
against  sense.  But  I  have  peace — /  have  peace? 
And  when  asked  during  his  mortal  sickness  how  he 
did,  his  reply  was  "almost  well." 

So  the  day  he  looked  for  as  his  Sabbath  and  "  high 
day  "  came  to  him,  and  he  is  gone  to  the  great  com- 
pany of  those  he  justly  honoured,  and  some  whom 
he  never  learned  to  honour  here,  in  the  "  many  man- 
sions" of  that  "  all-reconciling  world." 

But  alas,  when  shall  we  say  "almost  well"  for, 
what  he  called,  "  this  distracted  world  ?" 

In  England  the  better  days  seem  dawning,  and 
here  in  New  England. 

But  from  France  Lettice's  old  servant  Barbe,  whe 
has  taken  refuge  here  with  her  family,  brings  tid 
ings  too  sad  to  think  of. 

Port  Royal  is  extinguished  as  a  source  of  light ; 
the  schools  suppressed  ;  the  nuns  prisoners  in  their 
own  convent  or  elsewhere ;  the  recluses  silenced  and 
scattered.  Hundreds  of  the  best  men  and  women 
in  France,  as  Madame  la  Mothe  deemed  them,  thus 
rendered  powerless  for  good. 

But  the  sufferers  of  whom  Barbe  speaks  count  by 
hundreds  of  thousands.  "  One  soweth  and  another 
reapeth."  Who  will  reap  the  harvest  of  this  sowing  ? 

Of  these  hundred  thousand  good  Protestant  men 
and  women  scattered,  killed,  tortured,  at  the  revo- 
cation of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  through  all  the 
persecutions  before  and  after  it,  of  whom  Barbe  tells 
us  stories  of  horror  such  as  England  never  knew, 
those  other  good  men  and  women,  Port  Royal,  on 
earth,  knew  nothing ! 


5 10  02T  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

Oh,  joyful  revelations  of  that  "all  reconciling 
world !"  Next  to  the  joy  of  seeing  Him  in  whom 
God  reconciles  us  all  to  Himself  and  to  each  other 
will  be  the  joy  of  seeing  the  wonder  on  the  counte- 
nances of  saint  after  saint  as  they  unlearn  theii 
wrong  judgments  of  one  another. 

The  joy  of  the  unlearning. 

Yes !  this  joy  of  unlearning  is  one  we  shall  cer 
tainly  none  of  us  miss !  As  John  Robinson  said,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  sea  at  Delft  Haven,  to  the 
fathers  of  our  New  England  when  they  were  de- 
parting, "  If  God  reveal  anything  to  you  by  any 
other  instrument,  be  very  willing  to  receive  it  as 
from  me.  Lutherans  go  not  beyond  Luther ;  Cal- 
vinists  beyond  Calvin ;  yet  though  burning  and 
shining  lights  in  their  time,  they  penetrated  not  into 
the  whole  course  of  God.  But  were  they  now  liv- 
ing, they  would  be  as  willing  to  receive  further 
light  as  that  which  they  first  received  from  the 
Word  of  God." 

They  are  living,  living  and  learning,  and  ever 
"  receiving  further  light "  from  the  Eternal  Light 
(oh,  how  willingly !),  on  the  other  side  of  that  Great 
Sea  which  we  must  all  so  soon  pass  over,  to  learn 
together,  with  ever  deepening  love  and  joy,  how 
wide  His  dominion  is  "  of  whose  Diocese  we  are ' 
«  On  Both  Sides  of  the  Sea." 


THB    END. 


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